


Swallow Me Whole (Spit Me Out In Pieces)

by venomedveins



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Attempt at Boyfriend Stealing, Depicitions of Violence, Duro and Nasir as BFFs, Duro is alive because of reasons, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Sexual Content, Voyeurism (kinda), dirty talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomedveins/pseuds/venomedveins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A jealous and angry Nasir must deal with his feelings when a new recruit sets their sights upon having Agron as their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly loved jealous!Agron in the cannon but I really wanted to explore jealous!Nasir and how he would react if anyone tried to steal his man away. 
> 
> He definitely has some insecurity issues about not being pretty enough for Agron now that he's a bit older and more battle scarred. 
> 
> Also, Duro has to be in this for teasing purposes and Team Duro/Nasir BrOTP.

Nasir is standing upon wooden crate, watching newly freed rebels on training field when he first notices the boy. He's tall with blond curls and huge blue eyes, barely younger than Nasir himself. A former house slave, he is thin and unblemished, but practice with sword has started to form lean muscles along his chest. Nasir can not deny the boy's beauty, nearly a man if blush of hair upon chin gives any clue.  
  
Yet all morning, as he spars with another, eyes are constantly drawn to villa, causing him to miss mark and blunder in attack. Spartacus, Crixus, and Agron sit around short table just inside pillars, deep in discussion of rebellion's next move. They have been at it since sunrise, only stopping to grab more wine or when voices are raised.     
  
Sight of Rebel King seems to distract boy continuously, as he is whacked once again with wooden sword. Spartacus is sight to behold, never wavering leader of massive army, surrounded by sure generals. Had Nasir not been privy to the mercy of Spartacus himself, he would perhaps tremble in his sight as well. With distraction though, Aodhan will never learn to wield sword for purpose. Whether it is in awe or fear, Nasir does not know, but finds patience running thin.   
  
"Aodhan! You lose feet to fucking distraction! Turn head from foolish day dreaming."  
  
The man turns, panting and raising hand to block sun in eyes, sweat pooling along his forehead.   
  
"You push us all morning! I grow tired. Can we not rest?"  
  
Nasir finds self unswayed by pretty face and broad shoulders.   
  
"Do you think Romans would submit to such request? Yield because you go weary of fighting? We train to keep heart beating in chest, not for sport."  
  
Aodhan begins to pout, standing up straight and casting quick eyes towards Spartacus again. He licks lips slowly, biting on the corner, before turning gaze back to Nasir. His friend nudges him, looking sheepish at other's expense. They do not respect him, nor see him as warrior. Nasir is not too bothered by this, knowing full well that he could best all of them if so inclined.  
  
"What cause do we have to fear when such gods lead us? Surely Romans tremble at sight of Spartacus, Crixus, and Agron."   
  
"You are fool if you do not fear fucking force of the Romans. All in rebellion bare mark of how cruel they can be. Do not expect to be protected always."  
  
A few of the younger recruits look amongst themselves, nudging and smiling. They are young, Nasir knows, and happy to be away from dominus' thumb, yet they are also weak. They have not been to first battle yet, nor have suffered wound that pushed themselves to brink of death. Agron still touches Nasir's scar with lightest of brushes, fearful of reopening of long since healed flesh.   
  
Nasir sees such contrast between them and himself now, though mere months probably separate their ages. Sudden weight of experience aging him settles upon Nasir's shoulders, making him feel as if old man among blushing youths. It twists something dark and ugly in his gut, making his skin crawl.  
  
"Take to mid-day meal and find sense before you return to dirt."  
  
He snaps, rubbing a hand through his hair and closing eyes against sun.  Summer heat is slowly turning to cooler winds, Autumn approaching.   
  
Nasir has long since gotten over obsession with staying young and preserved doll for dominus. No one in rebellion is without battle scars. Yet, he can not help but feel bitter towards beauty and eagerness of youth. It was not long ago that he stood same, beautiful flower in dominus' garden. Sudden fear of standing insignificant against new crop of able bodies seizes Nasir, and he rubs harder at his eyes.  
  
Suddenly, warm fingers brush the inside of Nasir's thigh, trailing up seam of pants, a soft mouth finding his bare hip. The Syrian startles at contact, nearly falling from perch upon block if not for strong hands that grip legs to steady him.   
  
"Apologies!" Agron laughs, staring up at him with smirk.   
  
"You move around like snake!" Nasir tries to snap, finding Agron's gleeful look distracting, as well as fingers still tracing along inside of thigh, "I did not see you remove self from Spartacus' side."   
  
"You appear as if immortal upon shrine in temple," Agron shrugs, licking strip along Nasir's bare side, ignoring whistle from a passing Lugo, "I came to pay tribute."   
  
"You have lost mind. I appear weary old man surrounded by insubordinate youths."  
  
"If losing mind forces you to stay beside me, then I willingly and happily surrender it"   
  
Nuzzling face against Nasir's stomach, Agron leans against him. Syrian fingers trail through the gladiator's hair, sighing at simple touch, and enjoying being higher than Agron for once. Agron is private and protective of his relationship with Nasir, and usually does not display it so openly. Yet, private moments in time of war are often hard to come by, and Nasir would cherish sweetness in times of frustration.   
  
"Appear as old man? You are barely graced with hint of beard. What do you speak of?" Agron seems to catch up to the words Nasir muttered.   
  
"They do not see me as warrior," Nasir grumbles, motioning over towards where Aodhan and his friends are eating, "and that one only has eyes for Spartacus, not sense of sword. I have proven myself in battle and in this courtyard, but that means nothing."  
  
"We all were once drawn to our fearless leader. You are to be respected most of all. Vicious little dog turned gladiator and trusted friend of Rebel King," Agron kisses Nasir's hip again, sucking on the skin and producing a giggle from the Syrian's lips, "Forget foolish boys. They will learn or they will die. I would have thoughts be on happier matters."  
  
Nasir does not give voice to actual concerns. He knows beauty is fickle, a fleeting thing that he would not always have. He is to higher purpose now, rebellion and freedom and finding self within Agron's strong arms. Pride he once had in being desirable and having position within his dominus' villa has been replaced with skill with sword.  
  
"You still seem distracted."   
  
“Apologies. Thoughts consume me.”  
  
“Do I not present proper distraction?”   
  
"Agron! What are you doing?"   
  
Gladiator's arms wrap tightly around Nasir's waist, lifting him from box to ground in swift motion. Nasir stumbles a little with feet on earth, but Agron's sure hands steady him by the hips.   
  
His mouth descends on Nasir's before more protest can be made, pulling him tightly against Agron's chest. Nasir hates yet loves the easy way Agron manhandles him as if he is child, flipping him over in bed, picking him up against wall. Agron's strength is unmatched. Clingy tightly to the German's shoulders, Nasir must raise up on toes to kiss the other, licking into Agron's mouth.   
  
"We should not have left our bed this morning," Agron pants against lips, crowding into Nasir's space, hands stroking his sides.  
  
"Luxury of hiding from duty is not for us," Nasir tries to pull away, aware of eyes upon them, but is drawn back in by Agron's mouth.  
  
"Return with me to it," Agron licks along Nasir's pulse, "I would have you now."  
  
Nasir lets out a breathy moan, eyes darting behind Agron to see Mira and Duro grinning at them. The younger German even raises hand in greeting. Nasir feels blush upon face in reply, hiding in Agron's neck.   
  
"And what of new recruits? Who will train them if I give into request?" Nasir's heart is pounding as Agron's teeth grip the thin flesh of his neck.   
  
"Naevia or Duro are both able."  
  
"Able yes, but not their responsibility to rebellion. Spartacus will wonder where we are and Crixus-"   
  
Nasir is cut off by fingers brushing along lower back, dipping into waistband of pants to tap teasingly against ass. He knows there is a kiss bruise there, where Agron's fingers are pressing, formed last night by the gladiator's mouth. His fingernails dig into Agron's back in warning, cock beginning to fill between legs.  
  
"Gaul can keep fucking mouth shut."  
  
Nasir finds his eyes fluttering closed as Agron's hand trails around to his stomach, slipping lower to find the Syrian half hard. Agron's breathy laugh in his ear raises goose bumps; the summer sun causing sweat to pool on his lower back. His own hands are sliding over Agron's broad chest and shoulders, tracing scars he could find even in the dark.   
  
"A-Agron! We are in plain view," Nasir hisses, arching his back with the German's steady stroking of his cock, "We can not."  
  
"Thoughts of your smooth thighs and my place between them have plagued me all morning. I am no use to anyone if I can not get your taste out of my mouth. Regardless of wine or food, you linger across my tongue as sweet as you were last night."  
  
"You must not say such things to me." Nasir can not escape the smothering heat of Agron's body, surrounding him with every movement.   
  
"Why? I only speak truth. I would have you right here if you would but allow it."  
  
Agron bumps his hips against Nasir's, hissing as long, hard line of his cock rubs against the other's in blissful friction. Nasir must bite down hard on bottom lip to silence the deep moan that bubbles to come out.   
  
The gladiator has never shown such need or desire in front of numerous eyes before. Nasir is thrown off guard, eyes darting around and noticing the young recruits have taken notice, Aodhan's mouth twisted in an ugly scowl. Nasir can not linger on such look long as Agron grips his jaw and kisses him again thoroughly.  
  
"Come to bed."  
  
“I can not. You know rebellion is carried on backs of everyone doing their part.”  
  
“I only am concerned with you upon back.”  
  
Nasir feels himself blushing harder. Agron's stubble slides along his jaw, itching and perfect.   
  
“We can tonight, when duties are fulfilled.”  
  
“I can not wait that long,” Agron's voice is nearly a whine as tongue traces shell of Nasir's ear. He presses tightly to Nasir's hip, rubbing in short thrusts to release tension. Through the fabric, Nasir can tell Agron's cock is leaking precome, flushed red and hot. “I have thought of nothing but you. Your cries and moans and whimpers are constantly in my head, repeating as if song. I wish only to take you to heights unknown again and again until we collapse in state of bliss so strong that Venus herself shudders from it.”  
  
“Agron, my heart, I-” Nasir is cut off with Agron's next statement.   
  
“Please. I beg you. I am your slave to command as you will. Do not turn me from most desired thing.”  
  
Electric green eyes stare into Nasir's slowly widening ones. He has never heard Agron beg before, and sound shoots hot burning desire through spine. He knows he has won with whimper from Nasir's lips.  
  
Agron steps back, eyes trained on Nasir's bruised mouth, grasping his hand and beginning to move towards villa's walls. Nasir wants to deny him, knowing giving up assignment is blunder that will cause Spartacus disappointment and probably anger. Yet dark look in Agron's eyes can not be ignored. Letting himself be guided, he moves with his lover, vowing he will not sleep after passion is dealt with but return to sands and training.   
  
"I must return when finished," Nasir slides hand down to entwine fingers, "I have duty."  
  
"I don't intend to leave you able bodied."  
  
Agron's grin is wolf like and needy, green eyes burning with an intense urge to mark and taste. He never grows tired of bringing Nasir to highest pleasure.  
  
Fate is not with them today though, as Agron's heated gaze on Nasir causes him to stumble straight into Duro.   
  
"Jupiter's cock!" Agron is caught by sure hands, Nasir crashing into him.   
  
"Careful, brother," Duro's voice carries loud and clear across courtyard, "Distraction of hardened cock has made you clumsy."  
  
"Distraction of brother in path will cause harm if you do not lower voice and move," Agron growls under Duro's teasing grin. The younger has seen opportunity to jest, and will not be swayed.  
  
"I am to blame for your unsure steps? Perhaps if you took eyes away from your little Syrian prince, you would not make such error." Duro is far too smug for Agron's present mind set. "I only mean to greet and exchange words with beloved brother and his companion. You seem well Nasir, how are the new recruits?"  
  
"With enough training, they will become warriors yet," Nasir meets Duro's shining eyes, blushing and wanting nothing more than to hide face in Agron's back. He is still painfully hard, and thin cloth does not hide Agron's intention either.   
  
"They are young. Barely pups," Duro nods, still blocking path, "Weather is good for continued practice."  
  
"It is," Nasir nods, smiling up at the other. Agron does not look pleased, though conversation is pleasant, fingers flexing between Nasir's.  
  
"If you are so inclined to their well being, you should over see them. You are worthy enough warrior. Let Nasir rest from sun's harsh gaze," Agron grins, waving towards dirt.   
  
"Alas, I can not," Duro shakes his head, brown curls bouncing around his ears, "I am on watch tonight and need to rest."  
  
"Yet you block path with idle conversation instead of sleeping. I would see us away from distracting you. Take to your bed, brother. We are to ours."   
  
Agron rolls his eyes, moving around his brother and dragging Nasir with him.   
  
"How am I to sleep if you aim to cause racket?" Duro calls loudly, laughing.   
  
"Learn to block out noise!" Agron says back, not turning, "And do not be bitter, little brother. I am sure fist serves your purpose well!"   
  
They are just within pillar's shade when voice is heard calling Agron's name. Turning shows Spartacus motioning with one arm, a cup of wine in each hand. Their short break from discussion must be over, and Agron is once again needed.  
  
"Fuck the gods," Agron growls, nodding at the leader before turning frustrated eyes back to Nasir.   
  
"Your voice appears most desired sound in all rebellion," Nasir teases, shaking his head up at the now pouting gladiator.   
  
"I wish only to hear yours saying name in ear as I am within you," Agron mutters, leaning forehead on Nasir's shoulder. Nasir can not help but laugh at Agron's behavior.   
  
"When sun has set and duties are finished, come find me. We will continue this conversation."   
  
He kisses the side of Agron's head, moving to pull away. He is needed back in the courtyard, Aodhan and his friends have moved back towards it. With sudden movements, Agron yanks him back though, cupping his face in loving hands before whispering.   
  
"Do not overly tire self when training new recruits. I would have your energy saved," Agron kisses Nasir slowly, tracing his bottom lip with tongue before biting, "I feel our conversation will last the night."  
  
With a dimpled grin, Agron touches his forehead to Nasir's before turning and striding down hallway. The Syrian is left panting, feeling confused at Agron's odd behavior but still warm from it.   
  
\---  
  
It is some time later, as Nasir walks between the training men, offering instruction and aid, that Duro approaches him with wide grin. When Agron first began to express interest towards Nasir, Duro did not support it. It was unwise for his brother to lose sight on end goal - kill the Romans and return to Germania. Nasir was simply a toy that Agron would grow attached to and have to discard when the time came. Barely being a year younger than Duro himself, Nasir appeared nothing more than pretty face and tight ass.   
  
Nasir had proven worth the day Duro sustained sizable injury during raid. The Syrian had helped nurse Duro through the fever and stitched up the sizable wound. He also helped keep Agron from marching into Rome on blind and stupid mission for revenge. When Duro finally broke his fever three days later, he awoke to see Agron and Nasir curled up together beside his bed. They appeared to have never left his side as they were weary eyed and ruffled. Agron's large arms cradled Nasir close to chest, whose fingers were tangled in the leather cords around the man's neck. Pose seemed so natural, almost loving, and it surprised Duro. It was then that Duro realized fascination and distraction were elements in their budding relationship, as was unfathomable lust, but there was also the blossoming of love to be found – something Duro had never seen in his brother. How could he ever be against something that brought Agron so much joy?   
  
"Little brother," Duro greeted, hugging Nasir and kissing the top of his head.   
  
"Must you always remind me that you and your brother are giants?" Nasir sighs, shaking head, "Why are you not on bedroll? Do you not have watch tonight?"  
  
Duro's mischievous grin gives answer away before words, "I only meant to tease him."  
  
"You brat," Nasir laughed, tossing his head back, "You are just as bad as him."  
  
Duro slings his arm around Nasir's shoulders, leading him towards the large jug of wine in the corner.   
  
"I, at first, feared he was fleeing from such angry gaze," Duro dips a cup, handing it to Nasir, "but then realized it was for you and he must have been saving you."  
  
"What are you prattling on about?" Leaning back against the pillar, Nasir continues to keep watchful eye on recruits. Naevia and Saxa had both joined in to help after midday meal, so his absence wasn't as pronounced.   
  
"That blond Celt there," Duro points at Aodhan.   
  
"Ah," Nasir nods knowingly, sipping from cup, "Regardless of instruction, he still finds self distracted by awe when in view of Spartacus. I fear for him if he should ever spar with the Bringer of Rain."  
  
Duro laughs loudly, shaking his head and nudging Nasir. "You are much cooler of temper than my dear brother. Or perhaps more blind if you think he is gazing at Spartacus."  
  
Nasir turns sharply, raising eyebrow, "He is just in childish excitement to see rebel leader so close."  
  
"He is not casting gaze at Spartacus. That is also not childlike fascination, little brother."  
  
"Speak plainly," Nasir snaps, though he knows what Duro is about to say before he does.   
  
"His gaze was angry and unforgiving when watching you two earlier," Duro shrugs, "I thought at first you were staking claim on Agron. I stopped to tease you, but found Agron to be one dragging you away."  
  
Duro points to Aodhan again. He has stopped sparring for moment, wiping forehead with cloth. Even from distance, Nasir can see his eyes trained on huddled leaders. Agron suddenly stands, raising hands above head in slow stretch, muscles pulling taught across chest and stomach. He seems unaware of Aodhan's gaze or the way the youth licks his lips at the display.  
  
"He is just a boy. Why should I concern myself with this?" Nasir is shocked by hot, angry emotion that festers and bubbles in his chest. He does not want to label it yet.   
  
"Do not be concern, Nasir. Agron's heart lies within your hands. I only attempt to make you aware that heat often produces fire. I would be weary of who gets burned."  
  
Duro nods his head slightly at Nasir before turning back to his wine.


	2. Children's Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension continues to rise as Duro and Nasir are sent hunting while Aodhan and Agron go to market.

Sun has not yet risen when Agron is drawn from sleep. Stretching his legs out from curled position, Agron groans as his muscles pull and bones pop. His body is sore after last night; scratches litter his shoulders and back, a vicious red bruise on his chest from sharp teeth and sucking kiss. It is the type of pleasure that stirs cock and quickens breath.

Nasir mumbles beside Agron, burrowing closer to the German, seeking heat in chilly morning air. Agron gently brushes strand of ink black hair from his face, noticing his lips are still bruised and red. Nasir was unquenchable last night, begging sweetly for Agron's cock as if it were first time all over again. He refused to let Agron move away from him, catching by kisses and hand, moaning for more. The gladiator could do nothing but give and give and give, fearing if he dared catch breath, Nasir would fall apart. 

Agron can not help the gentle smile that adorns face when he watches Nasir in slumber against him. Even after long time together, Agron still feels heart race when Nasir appears before him. He is a vision, as beautiful as first time Agron saw him, standing proud and defiant under moonlight in dominus' villa. Injury and battle could not sway Agron's devotion.

Caressing his finger along Nasir's cheek, Agron kisses his forehead gently. He wishes only to touch, feel Nasir's soft skin under his hand once more, commit such pleasure to memory. The Syrian stirs a little, eyelashes fluttering along his cheeks. 

"Mmm'gron," Nasir mutters, nuzzling into his pillow and hiding his face.

"Hush, go back to slumber. Sun is not yet risen," Agron replies softly, sitting up fully and grasping cup of wine on small table. 

"Then you should not be either." 

Rolling over more, Nasir wraps an arm around Agron's waist, biting at his hip playfully. Agron grins into his cup, fingers tangling in Nasir's long hair. Skin stings at shoulders with movement, a few of Nasir's nail marks cutting deep. It is annoyance, but not true pain. 

"You bleed," Nasir is suddenly sitting beside him, fingers caressing his back in tentative brushes. 

"It is nothing," Agron shrugs, setting cup down to grasp Nasir's jaw, "A mark I am worthy of baring if last night proved well for you?"

“Yes, of course.”

The blush on Nasir's cheeks is worth the playful shove Agron receives. With dimpled grin, the gladiator leans over, brushing hair back from Nasir's neck to gently kiss each of his collar bones in chaste presses. Nasir entangles his fingers in the German's short hair, caressing and scratching through the strands, sighing when necessary. He will never grow tired of early morning attention they spend on each other. When rebellion is forgotten for just a few moments of gentle caresses and whispers of devotion. 

Agron teasingly licks across nipple, rolling the other between skilled fingers. He changes mood of intimate touch so quickly Nasir is dizzy with rush of lust that takes him. The Syrian tries to wiggle away, giving short burst of laughter when Agron's fingers accidentally dig into his ribs. 

"You are sensitive to touch?" Agron's grin is practically feral, rolling to hands and knees and crawling towards Nasir. 

"Agron, no. You are gladiator. This is cheating," Nasir tries to back up, heels slipping on soft fabric, and he giggles. 

"Cheating? I find weakness in opponent, and aim to use it to my advantage." 

“I am not your opponent. I am your prey.”

“One which I will surely and happily devour.”

Agron's back flexes as he moves, dimples right above his ass becoming more pronounced as his thighs part. He eyes the Syrian as if he is delicious meal to starving man, licking his lips slowly. Nasir tries to cover self with nearby blanket, hiding naked skin from approaching threat, but Agron easily tugs it away. Hands descend upon Nasir, fingers digging into Nasir's ribs. 

Nasir lets out a loud shriek, smothering it instantly by biting into his bottom lip and covering mouth with hand. He tries to wrestle his way away from Agron, but is powerless against the gladiator's sure grip on his sides. He knows that if Agron truly wanted to hold him down, he could easily, regardless of the strength that Nasir has now grown to have. Tears pool in his lower lids as he tries to keep his giggles and shouts at bay, fingers twisting around Agron's wrists.

"Mercy! I beg you!" 

“Mercy? I have just begun.”

Panting, Nasir wraps his legs around Agron's waist, attempting to dislodge him. It only results in Agron's flushed cock rubbing smoothly against his hip, Agron moaning loudly above him and stilling. Nasir's own body trembles, large brown eyes meeting Agron's fiery green ones. It feels as if time slows as Agron's sure fingers wrap around Nasir's thigh, pulling his legs wider as Agron settles between.

"Sun has still not risen," Nasir pants, brushing fingers against Agron's jaw, eyes shining with sweetest love, “Yet you burn hot enough to rival it.”

“You are perfection.” Agron presses feverish kisses along Nasir's jaw, “Beautiful wild little dog. The gods favor me to have given me to you.”

“And I to you.”

Nasir's eyes flutter shut, hands sliding down to grip Agron's ass, pulling the other's hips against him. He can't understand how he still has energy for such action, body sore and still leaking Agron's seed. Nasir knows he will always give into Agron though, it is no hard task to seek pleasure with this man as long as Agron will have him. 

“ _Küss mich._ ” 

Agron's eyes widen at Nasir's use of his native tongue, dimpled grin appearing on face. He instantly grants request, kissing Nasir feverishly, flicking tongue along the other's. Yet, just as gladiator's fingers begin to tease Nasir's opening, touch and body are suddenly removed. Startled yelp fills small room, and Nasir opens eyes in shock to see Agron pinning someone to the ground, small dagger held to throat. Sitting up, Nasir recognizes Aodhan's startled and fearful face staring up at Agron in terror. 

"Who the fuck are you?" Agron snaps, pressing tip of blade hard enough to Aodhan's skin to draw small trickle of blood, "Speak wisely."

Nasir is quick to move, wrapping blanket around himself and kneeling upon bed. 

"Aodhan." The boy's large eyes dart to Nasir, "I am called Aodhan."

"He's one of the new recruits," Nasir murmurs, knowing it unwise to touch gladiator when he is like this. Still, he wishes he could at least cover Agron's naked form, a sight that Aodhan seems to take notice of. 

"Do you often make habit of lurking outside of doorways?" Agron bites out, not removing blade, “Or are you Roman spy disguised as idiot youth?”

“I am no Roman. I swear it,” Aodhan insists, hands raising by head in surrender. 

“Your word is worth piss and shit,” Agron growls, thighs flexing as they straddle the boy's waist.

"Spartacus sent me to wake you. He wants to get early start to markets," Aohdan pleads, "I called your name through curtain but you did not hear. I only meant to follow orders. He did not tell me you would be in company of another."

"Agron," Nasir murmurs, catching the gladiator's eye. He shakes his head slightly, silent conversation between the two. With a grimace, Agron nods his defeat.

"Apologies. You would do wisely not to sneak up on slumbering gladiators." 

Agron removes blade, setting it on table nearby. Aodhan takes deep breath, not meeting Nasir's eye. He wipes at scratch on neck, pulling away bloody fingers with surprise. Slowly, Agron stands, grasping Aodhan's arm and yanking him to his feet. He does not move to offer cloth for wound. 

“My own apologies. I didn't mean to startle. Spartacus did not inform you would be with such company." 

Realization hits and Nasir looks at Aodhan sharply. Aodhan simply raises brow at him, scowl twisting mouth as he eyes the rumpled blankets and dark marks on Nasir's neck. The youth did not expect Nasir and Agron to be constant thing, but fleeting attraction. For first time in many years, Nasir feels the bitter taste of embarrassment fill mouth, dropping eyes to floor. He doesn't understand how he can feel so belittled by this boy, but he does and it causes ache in chest.

Agron seems to notice, back turned to Aodhan. With slow, measured movements, he steps onto the bed, hand cupping Nasir's jaw and lifting it to meet his eyes. Agron's brow is furrowed in confusion, but does not give voice to concern. Instead, he kneels before the Syrian, kissing him. Nasir opens mouth willingly, eyes sliding shut. Aodhan's cough falls on deaf ears as Agron pulls away and rests forehead on Nasir's. 

Neither Agron nor Nasir posses ability to be shy when naked, one can not be when surrounded by other men in ludos or when often chosen to perform tasks naked for crowd as body slave. Still, sight of Agron's body before him and Aodhan's barely contained heated gaze has Nasir standing, shielding Agron with own body, and handing him cloth of subligaria. Agron takes it silently, tying cloth to cover himself, before kissing Nasir's temple. 

"Are you training recruits today?" Agron asks, ignoring the lingering youth, and moving around room to grab armor. 

"No. Duro and I are set to task of hunting in woods." Nasir keeps blankets around himself, tugging on pants below covering. 

Agron turns, untangling straps of shoulder guard. Nasir moves to him, kissing his shoulder before wetting cloth on table with water. He runs it softly down Agron's back, wiping away the blood his own hands have caused. No conversation is needed, as silent forgiveness is freely given to Nasir for desperate fingers. 

"Hunting? Duro has some skill, I suppose," Agron shrugs, handing his armor to Nasir, "Better served in chasing chickens and goats than taking down boar." 

"He claims better skill than you," Nasir teases, fastening each strap with practiced ease. 

"I taught that runt to wield spear and shield! Any skill he posses he owes to my never ending patience." 

Aodhan stares at the pair, something dark and conflicting in his eyes. Nasir watches him over Agron's shoulder, the German fiddling with arm guards. He doesn't appear angry, simply calculating and taking notes. Nasir notices how the sunlight coming through the window makes his hair appear as gold, lips full and pink. He is beautiful, Nasir must admit to that, and such causes hot twist to again form in stomach. 

" _Kleiner_ ," Agron turns, crowding into his space and kissing him gently, "You will be cautious in open air?"

"You warn me of safety as you walk into crowd of Romans?" Nasir laughs and puts on own vest, tying it securely around himself. 

"Agron, Spartacus told me to make haste," Aodhan interrupts, stepping forward, "I am to aid in gathering supply."

"Why? You are barely passable with sword," Nasir's voice is sharp, surprising himself at hostility behind it. Years of training as slave makes him regret outburst, steeling self against rebuttal. 

"I have no brand," Aodhan replies, grinning spreading across face, "And am fair enough to be Roman. No suspicion of dark skinned foreigner."

Nasir grits his teeth, hand curling around hilt of Agron's sword. Fucking boy is bold and dumb in front of him, disrespect can only be tolerated for so long. Image of Tiberius flashes through Nasir's mind, pushed around and silent, everything taken from weak hands. Nasir will not stand by and let this happen again. 

"Fall from fucking sight. He will join Spartacus shortly." He growls, fingers tightening around metal that is too long and too heavy for him. Aodhan recoils, eying him with fearful gaze.

"Nasir." Agron says it in warning, reaching out to pry sword from hand. 

"Get out." Nasir leaves no space for argument.

Aodhan turns, fleeing from both warriors with only a backwards glance. Tension in room mounts as Nasir moves around, tossing things aside and pulling on clothes and shoes. Agron does not make comment as a bowl is carelessly tossed to the sound with a loud clatter, adorning rest of armor by himself. 

"Action wasn't necessary," Agron mutters, pulling cloak around shoulders to hide sword as he moves towards door.

Nasir's jaw clenches to keep silent the anger that brews in his chest from Agron's lack of understanding. How could he possibly understand the weight of fading beauty upon Nasir? The realization that fear of being replaced when body slave is still present fear? The Syrian shuts eyes against hot tears, cursing self for ridiculous surge of emotion. Agron must see the expression though, because movement across room abruptly stops.

" _Schatz_ ," Agron sighs, coming to gently grasp Nasir's hand. The smaller man can only nod, keeping silent, and pulling Agron from room. 

Duro is standing on courtyard steps, rubbing at eyes, when the two approach. It is almost an exchange as Agron releases Nasir to go speak to Spartacus in hushed, quick tones. Nasir finds himself unable to look up and meet the younger German's knowing gaze. Instead, he accepts the offered cup of wine with a tight lipped smile aimed at Duro's shoulder. 

"To markets, brother?" Duro asks, trying to lighten the mood, "I should have written list. Do try to buy me something of worth this time."

"You are a pestering old hen," Agron teases back, ruffling the younger man's hair. 

Nasir takes measured, tiny sips of his wine and stares out at the sky. It's turning a clear and open blue, meaning the rains will stay off another day, and allow them to hunt in favorable conditions. It also means that trip to and return from market won't be delayed. 

"At least acquire more wine to wash down the giant boar Nasir and I will slaughter today," Duro grins, wrapping an arm around Nasir's shoulders in a tight hug. Nasir smiles up at him faintly, nodding. 

"Agron!" Spartacus calls out, waving at the three. Aodhan is standing beside him, wrapped in a brilliant red tunic to hide flimsy armor. Agron gives his own motion of acknowledgment before turning back to the other two. 

"May the gods favor you in your hunt, brother," Agron touches his forehead to Duro's, "and keep eyes open for fucking threat." He does not need to add the threat to end for Duro to know it is there, in case harm comes to him or Nasir. 

Stooping a little, Agron caresses Nasir's jaw before kissing him sweetly on the mouth, his lips fitting around the other's bottom one. He sucks gently on the skin for a moment, teasing it with a flick of his tongue The Syrian leans up into it, eyes fluttering closed for briefest moment as he replies with teasing nip of his own. 

"Stay safe and I shall return to your arms," Agron murmurs, breathing words against the other's lips. 

"Do not provoke the gods," Nasir replies, eyes still closed, "and apologies for losing self in passion."

"Hush," Agron smiles a little, pulling away to kiss Nasir's forehead, " _Ich liebe dich._ "

"Ugh. Fall from sight before I lose breakfast upon your sandals," Duro makes a gagging noise next to them, pushing on Agron's shoulder. 

Agron smacks him across back of head with growl. He flashes Nasir another dimpled smile before turning and descending stairs, joining Spartacus. They are just outside of gates when Agron turns to glance back. Duro has arm wrapped tightly around Nasir's shoulders, both shielding eyes from sun. 

"Come, I thirst for the hunt," Duro shakes Nasir a little, jostling him into motion, "He shall return." 

Nasir sighs nearly inaudibly. 

"They both will."

 

\- - -

 

They are nearly to city's edge when Aodhan finally approaches Agron. The German has stayed silent so far on journey, distractedly twisting a bit of red cloth around his wrist. It is frayed and a little dirty, but seems to have once been made of fine material – perhaps a tunic or dress of a Roman. Aodhan has seen the same fabric before, tied around Nasir's wrist as well. 

“I offer apologies for this morning,” Aodhan catches up to Agron's long strides, “Foolish tongue got away from me. I fear I caused grave insult to your boy.”

Agron lifts eyes to the other, crooked grin spreading across face, “He is not my boy, but equal man. You would be wise not to insult Nasir again, for it is not my wrath that you will fear.”

Aodhan nods, wringing his hands a little, “I _am_ sorry for grievance caused. I am finding it hard to adjust to new surrounding.”

“Where do you hail from?” Agron continues to fiddle with wrappings on arm, marching on other side of cart from Spartacus and Mira. 

“Hibernia,” Aodhan grins, “From a clan of the green island.”

“A Celt?” 

Agron takes note of the way the sun plays along Aodhan's golden hair, shining as if treasure when he lifts head to grin at the German. It is play of light that seems to make his eyes even wider than they are, bluer than the sea that carried him here. They shine with delight of Agron speaking of homeland. An odd sense of affection over comes Agron, surprising himself at want to touch the boy's cheek. He stills hand.

“Yes, the Clan Fedlimid. We are named for our beauty and fairness but also our fierce swords,” Aodhan gently lays hand on Agron's arm, “I am unfamiliar with skin so kissed by the sun. I didn't mean to offend him, only speak truth. Was he not once a slave?”

“As where all of us.” Grimly, Agron replies. 

Aodhan tries to appear smaller, more innocent to win forgiveness from fierce gladiator. He is not so unwise that he doesn't realize his merits, and Agron's eyes drifting over his body. Aodhan shifts, letting the cut of his tunic fall open to expose some of his chest, a pink nipple appearing as if accident. Agron licks his lips almost unconsciously, and Aodhan must stop self from preening. After a moment, Agron cracks, grin spreading across face. He doesn't know why he feels easy camaraderie around the boy. 

“You are young and bite will heal. I will speak on your behalf, if you wish it,” he nods, patting Aodhan's hand before pulling away. Mira eyes him closely from beside Spartacus, mouth set in firm line. 

“I would be indebted to you,” Aodhan vows, nodding earnestly. He is nothing more than a scolded child, after all, seeking forgiveness for foolishness. He can't be more than sixteen.

“Just take caution not to provoke Nasir and we shall call it even trade.” Agron's grin does not waver as he leads them into the markets. 

\- - -

Crouching in the mud, fingers restless on spear, Nasir watches the boar with calculated gaze. It's fairly large, tusks long and sharp. It snorts as it nuzzles through the brush, looking for fallen bird eggs. It won't feed all, but it will feed many. Spartacus will be pleased. 

Duro stands behind tree few yards away, and with Nasir's sharp nod, pulls arrow and knocks it into bow. There is moment of suspended tension as he pulls the string back, closing one eye to aim. Nasir adjusts grip on wood of spear, ready to jump out if Duro's shot doesn't kill it. 

Aim is slightly off as arrow punchers the boar's shoulder, missing throat by inches. It instantly squeals, back legs kicking out as it takes off. Nasir is not far behind though, with a hiss, he charges after the beast. Bare feet hitting the earth with sure steps, Nasir can hear Duro behind him, but he has the advantage of being small and sure in his skin. 

Leaping over a fallen log, he aims spear down, and with sickening crunch slams it through the boar's neck. Both man and pig tumble, landing in sharp thicket with groan. 

"Jupiter's cock! You run as if Apollo himself," Duro pants, coming to stand above Nasir. 

"And your aim caused me to." 

Nasir sits up, pulling sticks from his hair. He can feel a bruise forming on shoulder from where he crashed, but doesn't comment, checking instead for open wound. Duro offers hand to Nasir, clapping him roughly on the shoulder when upon feet. 

"Boar moved at last moment! I had the kill. Regardless, Spartacus will be pleased and our people will eat," Duro shrugs, affectionately wiping dirt from Nasir's cheek. 

"Added to already killed deer, we will," Nasir pulls spear from boar, wiping the blood on nearby grass. 

"Come, let us head back. Agron and the others should be back by now," Duro kneels to tie the boar's back feet together, yanking the animal up on his shoulder. 

Nasir moves next to Duro as if ghost. He has been nearly silent all morning, taking down animal after animal with energy spurred by something other than love of hunt. Duro has tried to lighten mood with teasing and jokes, yet Nasir gives him faint smile at best.

"We use to hunt like this in the woods around our village and come back to glorious feasts and wine," Duro comments as Nasir busies himself with covering their hunting tracks. 

"And appeared as princes of the hunt?" Nasir guesses, knowing Duro is being boastful. Yet, he can not deny this German anymore than he can deny his brother. 

"We kept our tribe fed and warm," Duro nods, boyish grin over taking his face, "Agron more than me."

"He cares for you very much. I do not think it is purely selfish reasons. He aims to provide and secure your place in this world." 

"He has always been the better brother, at everything -- hunting, battle, wooing of pretty maids and boys." Duro wiggles his eyebrows at Nasir, making a lewd hand gesture. 

"Your brother laid with women?" Nasir's eyes widen. Agron can barely stand sight of naked woman before him, thought of him laying with one bring a laugh to Nasir's mouth.

"Oh no. Though that didn't stop them trying," Duro snorts, "No. He left quiet a few young boys' hearts broken though every time he went to battle."

Nasir is not surprised at news. He knows he is not the first to lay within Agron's arms or call out his name in feverish pleasure. Agron is not Nasir's first either, of course, the body of a body slave is not their own to do with what they will. Still, thought of doe eyed Germanian boys following Agron around with wet mouths and eagerly parted legs makes something strange and dark twist in his gut. 

"Oh don't worry little brother," Duro claps him on the shoulder, "You do not dwell in same realm as the boys before."

"What do you mean?" Nasir asks, turning eyes up to watch Duro's grin stretch across face.

"He fucked you twice."

Duro is not fast enough to dodge first smack that cuffs him on the back of the head. On the second blow aimed at him, he drops the boar next to the startled horses, and jumps away from the vehemently cursing Syrian. Nasir, growls at the taller man, punching him hard on the shoulder before pinching his arm with all his strength. In retaliation, Duro pulls on his hair, laughing when Nasir shouts. With quick turn though, Nasir's leg is swiping Duro's out from under him, and they collapse on the forest floor. 

"Fucking men from East of the Rhine," Nasir mutters, panting up at the sky. 

"You are, are you not?" Duro teases, tossing a leaf over at him. 

They lay there for a moment, catching breath and staring up at the sun filtering through the leaves. They are starting to curl and turn red along their edges. Soon, it will be winter, and though he has been warned about snow, Nasir still can not comprehend such a foreign concept. 

"You must miss home very much." Nasir finds conversation pleasant if not distracting from current state of mind. 

"Lands East of the Rhine are unmatched by any other," Duro's voice swells with pride, "but we have found another home amongst the rebels. Even I am surprised at brother's dedication to cause."

"Romans almost stole your life, and succeeded in killing many of your other brothers as well. Agron fights for you and Spartacus and the glory of bring Rome to their knees." Standing slowly, Nasir straps the boar down to one of the horse's backs, already laden with deer, and unties the reigns. 

"You forget yourself," Duro reminds, leading the other horse beside Nasir, "He fights for your safety as well."

They fall into companionable silent after that, Nasir lost in thought and Duro afraid to add to boiling emotion. He wishes he could ask about morning's argument that put Agron tight lipped and Nasir down cast, but he is afraid that his brother has caused grievance unreconciled. 

"Duro," Nasir says softly as they near villa's walls, "Do you find me horribly changed from first meeting?"

"Changed? You are warrior and no longer house slave. A good warrior. A great warrior. Titan of warriors," Duro reassures, hoping that is answer Nasir requires. 

"Gratitude, but I ask, physically, do I appear different?" Nasir peeks up at the German through his eyelashes. 

"Your hair is longer," Duro offers, "and you aren't as boney. You eat and train. We are older now though, yet you still refuse to grow." 

Nasir gives him a faint smile, eyes moving back to trail. Duro feels at loss. After a moment, Nasir turns to him with large eyes fringed by dark lashes. 

"If I was not for Agron," Nasir starts and Duro freezes, feeling own eyebrows begin to raise, "If I was not his and he was not mine, would you desire me?"

Duro's mouth feels dry, and he rubs at his nose, twisting his nose ring - a nervous habit. Answer is tricky, especially with loyalty to both brother and brother's boy. 

"You are my brother's heart, Nasir," Duro says it uncertainly as the Syrian presses hand to center of his chest.

"But am I desirable? Would you have me if I offered self to you?" Nasir insists, crowding into Duro's space. The taller man is shocked to see desperate tears collecting in Nasir's eyes. 

“Agron is my brother.”

“If he was not, if I was nothing to him,” Nasir insists, “it is just fantasy question. Answer me.”

"Nasir, he still desires you. You are still-" Duro is suddenly cut off as Saxa and Lugo crash through the trees. 

"What the fuck is this?" Saxa's gaze is cold and calculating as she takes in Nasir's hand on Duro, inches separating them. 

"He stumbles," Duro reassures, shaking Nasir in brotherly way, pushing him away a little, "Hunt was tiring."

Saxa still watches them, approaching as if moving to attack before ruffling Nasir's hair. She laughs loudly, in her own way, shouting something in German that sounds like an insult. Lugo, sensing danger is over, moves to help lead horses, patting Duro on the back. 

"We return you to villa and warm arms of Agron," he slings his arm around Nasir's shoulders, accent thick as he pronounces other's name, "You rest, little man."

Nasir doesn't have the energy to fight against nickname. 

\---

It is some time later while Duro sits upon villa's steps, sharpening spear head on rock, that clay cup full of wine is pressed to his shoulder. He turns to see Nasir sheepishly looking at him, bangs hiding clear gaze. Duro takes the cup hesitantly, sipping from it to wet tongue. 

"Apologies for losing self in woods," Nasir mumbles, sitting beside the other and taking up rock and metal tip. 

Duro gazes out at setting sun, unsure of what to say. He feels caught in center of storm, each turn is betraying either side. He loves Nasir as if he is little brother, someone to be protected and saved. Agron is his brother though, by blood and mother. He wants to ask Nasir if he plans to leave Agron, but doesn't have the strength to hear answer. 

"It is not him, Duro. It is my own mind that causes this," Nasir reassures, placing hand on Duro's knee, "I plague myself with frivolous thoughts. It is nothing but fears getting the best of me."

Duro smiles a little, nodding. He can hear the honesty in Nasir's words, confusion lessening with realization that Nasir is causing own strife. He sighs, shaking his head at foolishness and wrapping an arm around Nasir's shoulder, kissing his temple in brotherly fashion. 

"Aodhan is young and of a form," Duro offers, "but he does not know the labyrinth of my brother's heart. Agron has changed too since he caught your gaze."

"For the better." Nasir mumbles. 

"And for the worse. He still is a lumbering oaf."

“He is second in command to Spartacus. Your brother appears a god to many.” Nasir rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, but, many do not see him be childish and foolish around you. They do not see his constant need to have you in plain sight, and when you are taken from gaze, he throws rageful scene. Others do not know of his temper or clumsiness or lack of self control.”

“Or his crazy insistence to sleep closest to the door and inability to sleep if curtain is not fully closed.” Nasir offers, nodding at Duro's laugh. 

“Or how he has no skill when it comes to swimming. Or that strange mole on his back.” 

“But there is the perfect way he uses his co-” Nasir begins only to have Duro's hand cover his mouth. 

“A thing _no one_ wants to know or hear from your lips.” Duro reassures, shaking his head and hugging the younger man.

"You are wiser than you appear," Nasir teases, laughing a little and hugging Duro back. 

"Open the gate. Spartacus returns!" Donar bellows from top of wall, breaking comforting moment. 

Rebels spring to action, moving around to clear path and allow rebel leader into camp. Duro and Nasir make their way down steps, tasks forgotten as eyes search for Agron. 

The cart rumbles in, Mira walking before it and leading horse. Spartacus is beside her, giving orders to have cart unloaded and put away. Nasir nods at Spartacus, receiving one, smiling in greeting. Mira's worried gaze meets his before slipping away.

"Let us get more wine," Duro suddenly tugs on Nasir's arm, moving to pull him from courtyard. 

"Stop. You lose sense. Do you not wish to greet your brother?" Nasir asks, pulling against Duro's firm grip. 

"Nasir," Duro tries to warn but it is too late. 

Nasir's gaze has found Agron, standing to side of car, large vat of wine in hand. He appears slightly drunk, face flushed and dimpled grin stretching across it. He does not seem aware of eyes upon him. His long arm is stretched over Aodhan's shoulders, laughing at something the youth is whispering in his ear. 

It is as if snow has come early as cold blanket descends upon Nasir, freezing feet to dirt. Duro continues to pull on arm, but Nasir can not understand what he's saying. Agron's loud laugh carries across the courtyard, and Aodhan manages to twist in his arm enough to smirk at Nasir. 

“Nasir, come, I thirst,” Duro tries weakly, tugging on the Syrian's wrist. 

“Go to Naevia,” Nasir shakes the German's hands off him, “and tell her to meet me in the old dominus' rooms.”

Duro looks confused and worried, reaching out but failing to grasp Nasir's arm again. 

“Why? What are you planning?” 

“Just do as I say!”

Nasir turns back on gate, moving towards villa, plan forming in mind as he moves. He does not see Agron turn away from Aodhan with deliberate steps, eyes searching crowd for the Syrian.


	3. Head and Heart Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duro tries to save the day. Agron is still blind. Nasir might be slowly forgetting line that separates him and Tiberius.

Agron cranes neck above bustling crowd of rebels, hunting for flash of familiar black hair and large brown eyes. It is not like Nasir to be absent upon Agron's return, regardless of errand or mission he is sent on.  
  
Yet, the more he searches, the more the faces blend together until they are just smear in Agron's eye. Burden of wine on tongue has made him sluggish, not drunk but with happy warm tingle along his chest, and concentration is difficult. Suddenly, Agron is saved as brother appears before him, cross courtyard to other side.  
  
"Duro! Why did you not greet me upon my return?" The older grips the younger by his shoulder in greeting, pausing his footsteps.  
  
"I was busy with task," Duro mutters, shrugging off Agron's affection.  
  
"Too busy to greet brother who brings you wine as requested?" Agron pushes the large jug into Duro's stomach, "Where is Nasir? Is he too so taken that he forgets my return?"  
  
"You appear entertained." Duro shrugs, motioning behind Agron. He doesn't meet the older German's eyes, staring at their feet as if they speak truths.  
  
Agron turns and spots Aodhan laughing with a few of the other, young rebels. Nodding slightly, he lifts his golden head in greeting to the gladiator before turning away. When Agron turns back to his brother, Duro is scowling at him.  
  
“He is enjoyable youth.” Agron shrugs.  
  
“Enjoyable? How enjoyable?” Duro's nose flares a little, nose ring catching the light.  
  
"You are now jealous of boy too? He is but child. You are my brother. Blood is thicker than childish admiration," Agron laughs, moving to ruffle Duro's hair in brotherly fashion, action he has done hundreds of times before, but Duro shoves his arm away.  
  
"Wine upon breath has made you a fool before, brother, but I did not think you would stoop to such lows as to parade your infidelity in front of loving eyes. Then you make jest as if everything is well?"  
  
Agron is taken back by such venom, setting wine upon ground before crossing arms tightly over chest. Duro and him have had rows in the past, screaming matches that ended in fist fights, but nothing more. Duro has never been so careless as to insult him so deeply before.  
  
"What do you speak of? You hackle me as if wife. Be cautious of what you are about to say, brother, for fear you insult me beyond repair," Agron growls.  
  
"Nasir and I made to greet you upon return," Duro begins, teeth gritted, "yet you came through gate with pretty boy on arm whispering into your ear. I tried to pull Nasir away from crowd, but he was adamant about greeting you. Upon finally seeing you, he went off on own and refused to tell me where."  
  
“Has he left villa?” Agron's eyes dart around them in futile attempt.  
  
“No. He retreated inside and told me to leave him alone. He didn't want to watch you fuck boy before all other's eyes.” Duro snaps.  
  
Agron groans, rolling his eyes, "What fantasies! Aodhan is a child, Duro! He is a boy. I have no interest in pursuing barely developed cock. You confuse brotherly affectionate with more intimate. Nasir and Aodhan do not yet understand each other."  
  
“Understand each other? What is there to understand? Boy watches you like last meal to dying man and you let him without due consideration of other's needs or feelings for you.”  
  
The younger German's voice falls, shifting uncomfortably under Agron's gaze. He doesn't like fighting with Agron. In his eyes, Agron is best of both of them, yet brother's blind gaze causes someone who Duro also considers family pain. He does not know what would have happened to them had Nasir not been found amongst rubble of fallen villa, but he knows that Agron could have been lost to him. Duro is often found afraid of look that comes into beloved brother's eyes when sword is dripping with Roman blood. He is more animal than man.  
  
“You are confused. Both Nasir and you are acting with undue passions. Aodhan longs for home, for family. He does not know place in rebellion yet. He is not yet set to purpose,” Agron defends, body still tense under attack – regardless of how Duro is beginning to defuse.  
  
"I confuse nothing. His eyes are always upon you. His name is upon your lips at all times. I am not only one in camp who has noticed, and now he parades you around like prized slave to taunt Nasir."  
  
"Nasir is-"  
  
"Is only thing to bring you back from darkness of your lust for fucking blood!" Duro yells, slamming his finger into Agron's shoulder, rage suddenly taking over him, "Without him you would have succumbed to the beast you are when sword is within hand."  
  
"Duro, I am not replacing Nasir with anyone or anything. We spoke before I left and came to understanding. Whatever you think he is doing, he isn't."  
  
"Whatever he's-" Duro bristles, eyes narrowing and he stands up taller, "Whatever he's doing has him barely speaking all day! Whatever he is doing causes him to waver under thick coat of freedom, wanting only for you to claim him as your only spoil. Whatever he's doing has him asking me if he is still desirable and whether or not I would have him."  
  
"You speak falsely." Agron, grips the side of Duro's neck, pulling him roughly forward, "He offers himself to you?"  
  
"He only seeks reassurance that you still desire him and are not falling prey to young, troublesome Celt." Duro reassures, anger beginning to wane again in remembrance of Nasir's watery, desperate gaze in woods. "His heart foreverly beats for you."  
  
Agron resists urge to shove Duro away from him. The more he dwells on it, the more he remembers Nasir's begging last night, his needy fingers digging into back and marking with feverish whimpers. His dark eyes as Agron pulled on armor, tossing things around room in anger. Was Agron so blind as to not see Nasir's simmering pain? Did he think wound was healed when it was barely scabbing?  
  
"I must find him," Agron lets go of his brother, stepping back and looking around.  
  
"You are full of wine and without reason," Duro sighs, twisting his nose ring, "Nasir will seek you out when anger has cooled and he once again wants to be in your company."  
  
"Duro," Agron deflates, shaking head, "I am a fool."  
  
"Yes, you are," Duro agrees, wrapping an arm around his brother's shoulders, "Fate is on your side though as both Nasir and I have some sense of loyalty to you. Even if you are a lumbering oaf."  
  
Agron smiles a little in response, sighing and shaking his head, "Let me rest in your room and sleep off wine. I desire clear head when Nasir breaks words."  
  
"How could you possibly survive without me?" Duro sighs, leading Agron towards the villa.  
  
"I fear I would not." Agron answers, laughing.  
  
\- - -  
  
Naevia crosses her arms tightly over chest, leaning on the doorway of the small bathing room. She gazes at the few candles spread around the water, reflecting golden in the otherwise dark place. It feels more like a tomb than room to remove dirt. The bathing pool isn't steaming, like it would be if Romans were still in the house, but ripples black with movement. It's lukewarm at best, but it doesn't seem to bother the man currently standing in it.  
  
"I will not help you with this." Naevia states firmly as Nasir scrubs at his chest with cloth.  
  
"I only asked you to help find suitable cloth and sweet oil," Nasir mutters, dampening his hair with small bowl full of water.  
  
"Both of which is unnecessary," Naevia finds herself snapping, "Agron has never been man to obsess over Roman luxuries. He is a gladiator. He has no such reason to, and now you are the same. You are a warrior, Nasir. Not a slave."  
  
"Perhaps I just wanted bath." Nasir rubs oil into his hair, the room filling with scent of cinnamon and jasmine, “I have not forgotten such luxuries.”  
  
"Lies," Naevia is losing patience, checking over shoulder to make sure no rebels are coming to over hear, "You do this for selfish and blind reasons! It is for pride and pride alone."  
  
"That is not why I am doing this." Nasir climbs from bath, beginning to drizzle oil over body and rub it into skin.  
  
"You are no longer a body slave," Naevia moves towards the man, "You have the choice to choose who you will. Agron did not want you because you tempted and seduced him like you would a Roman shit."  
  
"Naevia, that is what I was trained to do. It was what I aimed for when body slave. I can not deny such," Nasir turns, picking up white cloth and beginning to tie it around waist. He does it with practiced ease, fingers sliding over the soft fabric as if second nature.  
  
“You are not a body slave anymore!” Naevia shouts, sound echoing around the room. Nasir jumps, glaring up at the woman at her admission, but says nothing.  
  
"You are like brother to me." She grasp his face between her hands,"I would not see you cause self so much harm for threat you have imagined."  
  
"I answer cause with cause of my own! That boy-" Nasir has to stop himself, venomous words thicken in throat, choking him, "I must prove myself worthy, in all things, for Agron's affections." His eyes fall to the floor, unable to look at Naevia.  
  
"Speak thoughts to him before you do this," Naevia can see the pain etched along Nasir's brow as he finishes tying the skirted subligaria around himself. It's nearly the same he wore when he was first found in villa.  
  
"He is with distraction," Nasir mutters, running fingers through loose hair, "I only seek to prove self to Agron and also gleaming eyes of that leech."  
  
Gritting her teeth, Naevia resists urge to shake younger man by shoulders. Discussion is pointless when Nasir refuses to listen and Agron is absent thought with his actions. With ignorance of the men of this camp, she is sure rebellion would run better on backs of Saxa, Mira, and herself.  
  
“When you nearly died in woods saving me, did Agron not stay beside you and pray over your body that you would recover? Were you beautiful and seducing him then? Did you evoke Venus when, painted with blood, you saved his brother from Roman sword?”  
  
“I had same face, did I not? I had same body as I had when dominus took me upon knees. Now, I am but pale shadow of what glory I once had. I am no longer soft, blushing youth in awe of his great power, but Aodhan and new young recruits are. I must remind him that I am still of worth,” Nasir insists.  
  
“Nasir you are blind if you think Agron only desires you because of your beauty.” Naevia groans, running hands through her hair, “Blind and foolish!”  
  
“I caught his eye because I was of softer face than other released slaves. Rebellion has hardened me. This is why Aodhan now seems wise and desirable choice.”  
  
"You lose sense," Naevia shakes her head, "and I am not giving aid in fruitless attempt at securing something you already posses."  
  
\- - -  
  
Sun is nearly set when Spartacus finally is able to break from discussion of rebellion with Crixus and Gannicus and seek out Mira. She is standing outside of storeroom, marking quantity of bags of grain inside, humming a familiar song. Wrapping an arm around her waist, Spartacus kisses her shoulder before coming to stand beside her.  
  
“You seemed displeased at journey's end today. Did we not acquire enough to feed us until end of month?”  
  
"We shall be fine if rations continue," Mira nods, still marking on her slate, "We were not off on our count."  
  
"Then why such troubled face? Break words and see it lifted." Spartacus nods, gently taking away paper distraction.  
  
"I fear for rebellion," Mira sighs, shuffling a little, "Not all recruits are willing to put in effort or time. They grow lazy and I worry that when we go to arms against Romans, we will fail because they will not put feet to purpose."  
  
"Who do you speak of? I will see them to task," Spartacus assures, placing a hand on Mira's cheek.  
  
"I-" Mira begins but loud voices interrupt her. Recognizing who the voices belong to, she grasps Spartacus' arm and pulls him into the store room, motioning for him to stay quiet. His brow furrows but he does not argue.  
  
They are hidden behind a large pile of cloaks when the boys enter the room. Mira can see Aodhan's hair and two other boys - Caiside and Eogan - sorting through some bottles of wine before selecting one each. They are careless, throwing themselves onto bags of grain as if they are expensive Roman couches. Spartacus turns to meet Mira's eye, but stays hidden and silent.  
  
"Do you think this wise? What if someone finds out? Doesn't Mira or Nasir keep count of such supplies?" Caiside states, scratching the back of his neck, pulling on his red hair.  
  
"No one saw us enter room. We can not be blamed," Aodhan shrugs, slurping loudly on neck of bottle, "Besides, the little Syrian is probably fleeing through woods as we speak."  
  
"Speak plainly," Caiside pulls off a chunk of bread, shoving into his mouth.  
  
"You gain favor with Agron?" Eogan's eager tone has Aodhan grinning.  
  
"He loses interest in petty little Syrian. I simply act upon opportunity. Besides, with his favor, I can gain position and power within rebellion - something none of us had in our Clan," Aodhan gloats, "Of course, winning his eye has other rewards as well."  
  
"Such as?" Eogan asks innocently, green eyes widening.  
  
"Length of cock hidden in subligaria," Aodhan smirks, "I was shown it this morning when I went to pull gladiator from his bed. I will be lucky if I can walk when night is through."  
  
All three boys laugh, but Caiside stops abruptly, sighing.  
  
"Brother, you forget that Nasir is key part of rebellion. He will not just be cast aside so simply. Besides, how can you even know that he is forgotten? Did you lay with Agron?"  
  
"Not yet," Aodhan shrugs, "I will have him tonight. It is easy task."  
  
"He is of a form. So is Spartacus, but that may be setting heights too high," Eogan sighs, staring at ceiling. His large, clumsy hands fiddle with his belt, tying the leather more securely around his waist.  
  
"Agron practically strokes Spartacus' cock." Laughing, Aodhan gestures in motion of such act. "What good would your hand be?"  
  
"I never offered just hand." Eagon opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out. Mira's fingers tighten around rebel leader's wrist, but Spartacus soothes with look, shaking his head. Her anger will do them no good.  
  
"Do you both forget that there is a war going on?" Caiside snaps, popping a grape into his mouth, "Should we not discuss Rome and put aside Aodhan's fruitless quest for cock?"  
  
"Fruitless?" Aodhan stands, moving towards the other boy, "Rebel leader's right hand is dog, panting and slobbering upon setting gaze upon me. Once place is secured in his bed and ugly Syrian is forgotten, we will never have to fight again. We will acquire horses and go home."  
  
Reply is cut off as drums begin in courtyard, raunchy laughter carrying and echoing in the small room. Other rebels must be starting evening meal, wine flowing already as sun has fully set. Straightening, Aodhan smooths tunic around himself, leaving it open to show is pale and thin chest.  
  
"I am to purpose. You would be wise to hold tongue," Aodhan threatens Caiside, fingers flexing on sword at hip before striding out of the room.  
  
"Why must you anger him so?" Eagon mutters, bumping his shoulder hard into the other boy's as he follows Aodhan from the room.  
  
With a bitter sigh, Caiside takes up his own wine and follows the other two out. Mira turns to Spartacus after a moment, to see grim look is reflected in the rebel leader's own face. She does not need to speak, for he already understands.  
  
\- - -  
  
Agron settles back into couch, balancing cup of wine against hip. Duro had woken him earlier with soft pat to his shoulder, eyes warmer but not completely trusting. It still stings, the fight they had before, but it is barely heat compared to the smoldering flame of Nasir.  
  
Fellow rebels stumble by him, shouting and laughing loudly, sloshing wine onto the stone ground. Agron tries not to wrinkle nose, watching as red liquid, so familiar to him as blood, trickles along to reach steps. He is lost in thought at sight of it, musing over such color against Nasir's skin when he wears such.  
  
Yet passing liquid is forgotten at sight of feet at bottom of steps. Delicate ankles, one wrapped in a gold chain, lead up to shapely calves and thighs. White wrappings around waist, riding low to expose sharp hipbones and flat stomach. Dusty nipples and a mouth-bruised collar bone and neck, wispy black hair curling around shoulders. Agron can not close his mouth as figure slowly walks up the steps, seeming as fantasy from past. Only detail missing is thick collar around throat.  
  
"Nasir," Agron gasps it like prayer sent to gods, suddenly feeling too warm while sprawled across couch.  
  
"May I?" Nasir blushes, motions towards space on couch beside Agron's hip.  
  
Agron does not reply but to reach out and wrap sure hand around Nasir's wrist, tugging him forward. The Syrian comes willingly, curling up next to Agron. He presses close along the gladiator's hip, legs tucked close, nearly in the other's lap.  
  
Tilting his head up with firm hand under Nasir's jaw, Agron greets new closeness with kiss. It begins chastely, just press of lips to other's, before Agron adjusts his grip, hands moving back to tangle in his hair. Nasir whimpers, opening mouth automatically as Agron runs his tongue along his bottom lip. Nasir tastes of honey and figs, sharp and tangy. Teeth click as Agron presses rougher, holding Nasir in place. It seems as if they will never part, swallowing each other whole with joint mouths and tongue.  
  
Drawing back for breath, Nasir pants against the other's lips, eyes still closed tightly. Agron soothes hand down spine, teasing fingers along hem of wrappings before retreating. Nasir arches towards him, offering body in one long roll of hips, pouting when Agron kisses him on the forehead instead.  
  
"I feared for you today. You were not here upon my arrival," Agron murmurs, plucking grape from nearby plate and pressing it to Nasir's lips. The younger man accepts the food, chewing before replying.  
  
"I was set to different task and lost track of time. Apologies. I am glad you have returned without spilt blood." Nasir punctuates it with soft kiss to Agron's jaw, twisting leather cords around his fingers.  
  
“Duro seems to think you avoid me on purpose.” Agron takes pointed sip of his wine, looking out at the other rebels.  
  
“I-” Nasir fidgets, shifting body against Agron's uncomfortably, “I fell to dark thoughts earlier. I would not rehash them now.”  
  
"Speak thoughts and see burden lifted."  
  
"I would not lay weight upon you." Nasir does not meet Agron's eye, only rests cheek against his chest.  
  
"You would be surprised with amount of weight I can bare."  
  
"I know. You are rock in terrible storm." Nasir's breath ghosts across his skin, hot and damp, raising goosebumps.  
  
"You appear changed." Agron strokes Nasir's hair.  
  
"I am as I have always been. Perhaps it is you have not seen me without heavy armor or splattered in blood in many months," Nasir answers.  
  
Across the courtyard, Nasir spots Aodhan sitting around fire. His sword is pointed to the ground, dragging back and forth in tireless line in dirt. Nasir is pleased to also note sour look upon the youth's face as he watches the two of them entwined on couch.  
  
"I have always been drawn to you, regardless of state of blood upon hands or not."  
  
Agron can not keep hands from touching Nasir, nuzzling along his temple and leaving wet kisses anywhere he can reach flesh. Nasir relishes under the attention, caressing Agron's chest and humming contently with each stroke of Agron's fingers in his hair. He can hear others around him laughing, a loud whistle from Gannicus directed towards the pair, but Nasir can not concentrate on anything that isn't Agron's panting and slide of his tongue on Nasir's flesh.  
  
"Take me."  
  
Nasir's hands slide down Agron's side, tracing a hip to the edge of his subligaria. He does not move to untie it, only runs his fingertips along fabric teasingly.  
  
"Are you so hungry for my cock you forget that we are surrounded by all of rebellion?" Agron pulls away to meet Nasir's eyes.  
  
"I do not care. I would have you now." Nasir rubs his half hard cock along Agron's hip, moaning when Agron forcefully stops him.  
  
"You would have all eyes upon you? When did you not deny such thing only few days ago?" The gladiator's gaze does not move from Nasir's half lidded one.  
  
"I aim only to please you," Nasir murmurs, lowering head slowly to lap tongue across one of Agron's nipples, nibbling on it. Agron hisses in reply, arching towards Nasir.  
  
" _Schnatz_." Agron pants, cock swelling between his legs.  
  
They shuffle for a moment as Agron's hands smooth down Nasir's back to his ass, pulling him fully into the gladiator's lap. Nasir parts thighs easily, knees gripping Agron's hips, skirt sliding up his thighs to expose more of his skin.  
  
Nasir turns his head when Agron moves his jaw, eyes catching sight of the Celt again. He's moved closer, arms crossed and pouting. The Syrian can barely find it in him to care as Agron's teeth grip his neck, producing a loud hiss from Nasir. Aodhan's eyes narrow at them, meeting the older man's gaze with a cold and furious stare. He knows he is losing. He under estimated the Syrian.  
  
Agron's mouth descends again, biting and licking across tan collarbones and shoulders, and Nasir forgets temperamental boy across courtyard. Body thrumming with pleasure, he can not concentrate on anything but feeling of skin on skin, building pressure in groin. Nasir whines, high and needy, grabbing Agron's forgotten wine cup and draining it before reclaiming the other's mouth, the sticky liquid spilling over both tongues.  
  
"Brother!"  
  
Duro's voice, loud and booming, sounds overhead, startling the pair.  
  
Agron doesn't remove his mouth from Nasir's neck, simply opens his eyes and glares at the other. Duro's cheeky grin stretches wider as Nasir flushes, pulling back and wiping at his mouth as if guilty of crime.  
  
"Do you require something?" Nasir asks, trying to slide off Agron's lap. Firm grasp on hips stops movement as Agron pulls back from Nasir's skin with a slick pop.  
  
"Only wish to break words and see that wounds are soothed between beloved brothers," Duro replies, coming to sit on end of couch, leaning back against arm.  
  
"You aim to pester and annoy," Agron grumbles, kicking Duro in the side with his sandal clad foot.  
  
“Such insults!” Duro teases, shoving Agron's foot away with a scowl, “I show concern for you both and this is the gratitude I receive? See if I ever listen again to you lament about your love for each other.”  
  
“Hush,” Nasir soothes, managing to squeeze himself between back of couch and Agron's side, thigh covering Agron's swollen arousal, “We both know rebellion is hardest on you.”  
  
“Gratitude, _Nasir_.” Duro grins, “at least he understands me, brother.”  
  
“Of course.” Nasir's voice begins to take on teasing, mocking tone, “How hard it must be to hunt in the woods, over see sharpening of swords, and standing upon wall watching horizon. You must be exhausted. Retire to your bed and rest. I would not stand in way of your sleep.”  
  
Agron's loud laughter shakes whole couch, Nasir vibrating with movement next to him. With one arm pinned under the Syrian, he can't move too much, but manages to smack Duro's shoulder with free hand. The younger German instantly glowers, reaching out to pinch the back of Nasir's thigh with strong fingers. Nasir yelps loudly, scrambling up Agron's body to get away from Duro's attack.  
  
“Watch where your hand goes, brother!” Agron shouts, playfully beginning a shoving match with Duro over Nasir.  
  
“Wait wait wait!” The tiny Syrian squirms from between both men, tripping into standing position, “I am for more wine. I have no interest in being smothered by East of the Rhine children!”  
  
His laughter echos along hallway as Nasir goes to search for another amphora. He knows if he can distract Duro enough, he will be able to lead Agron away to inner villa. His German is always eager to retire to rooms if promise of flesh is freely given. Noting the way his coverings have ridden up in passionate moment, Nasir shimmies fabric back down over thighs, covering bottom of ass from view.  
  
Back at couch, Duro sits next to his brother, straightening his armor.  
  
“All is well?” he asks, watching Agron's blissful face carefully.  
  
“My affections and attentions have not left him.” The older brother confirms, eating another grape. “And he is eager to retire to our bed.”  
  
“A desire I suspect you will honor?” Duro laughs.  
  
“If troublesome brother would only leave me alone to give into Nasir!”  
  
Agron swats at Duro, their shoulders shaking together in glee. It is rare occasion that Agron allows carefully built guard around himself to lower. He is not a man of words or soft whispers, but of actions and sure steps. Yet, Nasir is tender hearted, easily brought to tears and whimpers when battle is not raging around them. Agron had to learn that tongue can also become a sword to slay fears and worries with practiced ease. Still, Agron prefers to speak in caresses, sooth with well placed kisses and twisting of hips. If wound is still open in Nasir's heart, then Agron will cure it best he can upon his return.  
  
He is just about to rise and go find the little Syrian when lovely Celt comes into view. Aodhan is making his way towards them, tunic left open – showing his long, pale torso and toned stomach. He carries a plate of honeyed figs and dates in hand, grin spreading when he meets Agron's gaze.  
  
“Do you hunger, fearful leader?” Aodhan asks, coming to kneel before him, “I could not eat such treats without aid.”  
  
Duro shifts uncomfortably next to the pair, resisting urge to kick plate from youth's hands. Agron eyes the boy skeptically, shaking his head at such obvious ploy. He is not so blind as to realize when someone is doing act for purpose. Aodhan has no reason to be kind to Agron unless he desires something Agron posses – such as cock or power.  
  
“I will take burden from you,” Agron replies, bending down to pull plate from Aodhan's hands, “and share with eager mouth.”  
  
“You choose first,” Aodhan insists, grin over taking face at older man's attention. Vicious part of Agron wants to laugh at him, but holds tongue against such rough action. Youth will not understand that Agron's tongue and heart are both spoken for – a fact that is not likely to change soon.  
  
“I can not,” Shaking his head, Agron places treats between Duro and himself on couch, “I could not partake without first offering to Nasir. He devours them as if they are precious gift from Jupiter himself. I will not take such pleasure away from him.”  
  
Aodhan's sure grin begins to fall at words, shaking his head. “I do not understand. Surely Nasir can find other plate in camp. We are plentiful tonight with gifts from gods. Come, Agron, I would see you pleased as well.”  
  
“Do not despair,” Agron laughs, gently cupping Aodhan's jaw in one hand, “I am grateful for gift. If you are giving it in hopes that I have power to relieve you from day's training or task upon wall, I am sure I can speak to Spartacus for you.”  
  
Eyes widen as Aodhan's full mouth twists into an ugly scowl. Duro snorts into hand, turning head to hide gleeful expression from youth's eyes. As he does though, he spots Nasir beginning to return from crowd, not yet seeing scene before him.  
  
“I do not bribe you for favors,” Aodhan hisses, mouth set in firm line, “I offer sweetest nectar to coax you into more intimate thoughts.”  
  
Agron glances at Duro before turning gaze back to kneeling youth, confused.  
  
“You would have me taste this honey only to seek out sweetest prize from your own mouth?” Agron asks suddenly, hand still cupping Aodhan's sharp jaw.  
  
“I only offer what you already know you posses,” Aodhan insists, kneeling up closer to Agron's face, “I am yours for the taking, my gladiator. You knew as such from first brush of our hands upon training field, those months ago. You noticed my gaze upon you. You offered me kindness and blushing looks. I knew I was for you, yet waited for you to claim prize!”  
  
“You mistake intent,” Agron insists, shaking head.  
  
“How can I mistake intent when cock hardens before me?” Aodhan moves to reach for Agron's subligaria, but wrist is caught in the German's hand, pushing him back.  
  
“You are mistaken.” Agron's tone suddenly goes deep, punctuating each word with pause. Aodhan steps out of line and Agron will not tolerate it.  
  
Nasir has reached them by now, standing few feet away with blank expression on face. Agron watches as he takes them all in, eyes lowering to floor automatically. Tiny strands of his hair fall into his face, but he makes no move to brush them away, standing as if statue in villa. Duro huffs loudly, rising from couch.  
  
“I will hear no more of this,” He hisses, turning to stalk away and nearly running straight into Spartacus.  
  
“Apologies,” Duro instantly straightens self, reaching hand to steady on Nasir's shoulder. The Syrian does not move.  
  
“Aodhan,” Spartacus does not meet Agron's eye, only stares at whimpering youth on floor, “Come. I have task for you.”  
  
“I would see discussion at-” Aodhan begins but Spartacus cuts him off.  
  
“Now.”  
  
Rising from floor, Aodhan's face is still twisted into bitter rage as he follows the Rebel King down into courtyard – slamming his shoulder into Nasir's as he passes. The other man does not reply, simply straightens self and sets amphora of wine before Agron's bent knees. He moves to turn away, most likely retreating back into party, when Agron grabs his hand.  
  
Pulling him closer, Agron lowers Nasir once more into his lap and kisses him. It takes a few minutes of coaxing, teeth worrying Nasir's bottom lip, tongue tracing the top one, before the Syrian responds with barely there twitch of his own mouth. He did not hear all of conversation, nor does he want to be given such information, but Agron holding Aodhan's face brings new searing heat to Nasir's chest and eyes – a feeling of jealousy so strong it twists his stomach into sickness. He wishes boy had never come to this camp, had never set eyes upon Agron, had never desired something that Nasir thought belonged to him.  
  
Blindly reaching for plate beside him, Agron dips finger into thick, honey syrup before dragging it across Nasir's lip. The Syrian hums contently when tongue darts out to taste, practically melting as sweet nectar's taste explodes within mouth. Greedy lips surround Agron's finger, sucking each sugar crystal from the digit before releasing it with loud pop.  
  
“We are to bed.”  
  
Standing, Agron flings Nasir over his shoulder as if he weighs nothing. Nasir is too delirious and drunk on taste of Agron's mouth and feeling of his heat to respond. He can only meet Duro's troubled eye before they round corner and sight is lost.  
  
Agron lowers Nasir to his feet once they enter room, closing curtain that stands as door behind them. It is flimsy excuse, but still more privacy than many others have – a show of status among rebels. Agron takes few deep breaths, controlling his rapid heart rate, need to have Nasir below him, panting and needy, rushes blood through veins. When he finally turns, air leaves lungs in sigh at sight before him.  
  
Nasir has taken off subligaria, letting white fabric pool around ankles, and stands before the gladiator completely naked. Outside in dark courtyard, Agron had not noticed the thin gold chain surrounding Nasir's neck connecting and leading down to one of same finesse around his waist. It shimmers in dim candle light now, reflecting along Nasir's firm stomach. He appears ethereal, comparable to Eros himself.  
  
Agron's cock throbs at sight within own confines, leaking from tip. Nasir appears wild, hair curling around shoulders, mouth bruised and scarlet. He sways slightly from music outside, primal grin spreading across face. Reaching down, Agron has to grip base to hold back release, sure he could come just from the way Nasir's hips look when they keep pace with drums.  
  
Agron blindly reaches up to undo his shoulder guard, fingers feeling too thick and sluggish to really accomplish feat, needing to be against the man before him. With knowing smile, Nasir crosses room and reaches to give aid, undoing clasps and ties with practiced ease. With each inch of skin revealed, Nasir leaves wet kisses along flesh. He soon enough has Agron standing bare as well, leaking cock in hand.  
  
Stroking him with firm and sure grip, Nasir peppers kisses along Agron's neck, moving down to his chest. Hands tangle in his hair, Agron caressing and tugging on the strands, guiding the other further down. Nasir goes willingly, tracing the firm lines of his abs with tongue. Breath ghosting over the tip of Agron's cock, Nasir looks up at the other man, grin spreading even further across face.  
  
"Suck me," Agron's voice is whimpering command, thumb curling down Nasir's bottom lip.  
  
Leaning forward, Nasir wraps lips lightly around the head of Agron's cock, lapping at it as if kitten to milk. Agron groans loudly, fist tightening in the Syrian's hair. He resists urge to force him down, knowing Nasir could take it but not wanting to hurt the other man. Large dark eyes keep steady gaze on Agron's face, bracing one hand on the gladiator's thigh while the other rolls his balls in sure palm.  
  
Nasir takes to task with ease. It is first thing body slave learns - how to suck cock to perfection, followed by how to stay silent on knees. He was barely thirteen when dominus first set him to task, and though Agron holds all of Nasir's heart, the younger man finds it easy to let mind wander when doing this.  
  
Bobbing his head, Nasir hums around the flesh, setting rhythm he knows will send Agron into highest passion. He knows every inch of the gladiator's body, every scar and freckle, enough he could draw it blindfolded if needed. Agron is shaped as Mars himself, strong muscle barely contained in scared and freckled skin, soft except for his hands. Those hands, that can bring Nasir to screaming completion but can also rip heads from Roman fuck's necks. Cock that is rivaled by no other man, splitting Nasir in half so deeply he is sure it chokes him with each thrust.  
  
"Fu-uck the gods," Agron groans, body trembling against control. He knows with much more attention, he will surely reach completion just from this. He will not see long awaited night ruined by his overly eager body though.  
  
“Nasir, fuck, stop,” Agron pants, weakly trying to push at Nasir's shoulders.  
  
Nasir can barely hear gladiator above him, mind lapsing into thoughts of previous days. Dominus preferred Nasir like this, on his knees, serving him and only him with teeth and tongue. It was act of highest servitude, as if Nasir was meant to pray to higher man above him while on knees. Was Nasir not also doing this now? Begging for Agron's love and attention, much like a Dominus' mercy, upon knees? Of course, Nasir loves Agron above and beyond all other men or gods on earth, but threat of Aodhan has caused deep gash in Nasir's pride – forcing jealousy and fear to rear their ugly heads.  
  
“ _Kleiner_.” Agron does not want to hurt beautiful boy before him.  
  
Nasir sometimes forgets there is line between Tiberius and Nasir. When Agron first took him upon back, gazing into his eyes, Nasir could not meet them. For slaves did not look into the faces of their masters. It is second nature for Nasir to lower eyes, to give in, to keep silent when displeased. Any reaction could result in fist or whip from dominus.  
  
“Wait.”  
  
Only goal was to please dominus, to keep dominus happy, to keep dominus from selling him to mines. Just as now only goal is to keep Agron beside him, keep Agron happy. Keep Agron from dying upon field of battle or inviting little pretty Celtic boy into his bed to replace him.  
  
Nasir does not want to be replaced. Nasir needs to be only thing Agron desires. Nasir needs to be enough to keep Agron alive and with him. Nasir knows that if Agron takes other boy as lover that Nasir will not be able to stand it. He doesn't want to be alone. He wants to always belong to Agron, belong inside his arms and his heart.  
  
“Nasir!”  
  
Agron's hands twist around Nasir's shoulders, shoving him back more forcefully than intended. He sprawls upon back on floor, groaning as head hits stone with thud. Still, fear crowds his mind as his vision swims, hot tears spilling down his face. Agron is crouching above him, tenderly lifting his head and mumbling apologies, but Nasir suddenly feels guilty fear seize heart.  
  
“Apologies, dominus. I did not hear your commands.”  
  
Agron says something else, soothing words Nasir thinks, but they sound all wrong.  
  
“Please don't send me away, dominus. I'll do better. I only want to be yours.”  
  
  



	4. To End It All

Nasir wakes slowly, pulled from dreams with nagging feeling he's not suppose to be asleep. Shifting a little, he can feel that he is completely naked, chain having been removed from around neck and stomach. The blankets and furs dragging deliciously soft across his hips and thighs, teasing along his cock. He is surprised he isn't sweating under such coverings when Agron burns hotter than fire when sleeping. It must be still dark out, as their is faint laughter from outside but no clashing of swords or shouting of orders. 

Last Nasir can recall is Agron carrying him into the room, kissing him dizzy as they both stripped. Yet, when Nasir reaches out hand for him, he touches only cold sheets.

"Agron?" 

Blinking eyes, Nasir groans as throbbing in head makes stomach turn. Surely he did not succumb to drink that much to cause sickness. Lifting hand to hair, fingers meet thick bandaged wrapped around crown of head and across temples. Confused, Nasir trails touch along it, feeling crust upon back of skull. Fingertips come away sticky with dried blood. 

"Agron?!"

Panic sets in as Nasir tries to push himself up on his elbows, vision swimming. Strangled voice alerts Duro, who is sleeping on floor next to bed. He sits up quickly, curls a mess on top of head. Duro instantly begins to make soothing noises, reaching out hand to press Nasir back onto bed. 

"It's okay, little brother." Duro sits on edge of bed. "You are safe."

"Duro?" Nasir blinks rapidly, trying to clear gaze enough to see the other man, "Where is Agron? Why am I bleeding? What has happened?"

"Hush. Rest for moment and I will tell you all." Duro brushes Nasir's hair from his face. "Do not tax yourself."

Duro's warm hands soothe Nasir into relaxing into the blankets, easing them up around his bare shoulders. The German is unsure of how much Nasir can remember, nor if he is yet full of mind to stand or comprehend. Nasir continues to blink until he can see, noting that Duro has a split lip and bruised cheek. Heart begins to pound in chest again, fearful of what has caused such damages. 

"Was it Romans?" Nasir asks gently, reaching to touch Duro's cheek, “Have we been attacked? I do not recall.” 

"No," Duro shakes his head, lighting candles beside bed, "I was too slow on retreat from brother's rage."

"Agron did this to you?" Nasir tries to sit up again, only to have Duro push him back down. 

"It was accident. He was taken by rage at your injury." Duro shrugs. "Medicus nearly suffered blow."

"I do not recall-" Nasir starts, confused with throbbing head aiding. 

"Agron's shouts brought Spartacus and self to room," Duro begins, spinning cup of wine in hand nervously. 

"You were-" Duro chokes a little, glancing at the Syrian, "Agron was holding you on floor. There was so much blood. I thought at first you had done it to self. You were so upset at party."

"It is not first time I have been thrown to floor by powerful man." Nasir sighs, rubbing hand across eyes, “nor bled because of it.” 

"Spartacus tried to move you," Duro goes on, "to put you upon bed, but Agron wouldn't let him touch you. Others were in the hall. Someone went to get the medicus."

Duro swallows tightly, taking sip of wine to ease next words. He wishes he could erase brother's face from memory, the desperate green eyes over flowing with tears, the way his naked body curled around Nasir's as if lion protecting cub. Duro has feared for Agron many times, but he has never been afraid of him before. 

"He wouldn't stop screaming, Nasir. He was covered in blood as if crazed beast. I tried to talk reason to him, for him to see you would be alright. It was simple cut caused by sharp stone edge. I have never seen that look in his eye, not even when sword is covered in Roman blood."

Nasir glances around the room, tabling laying in splitters upon floor. The amphora of wine that Agron had brought with him when first entering room shattered upon stones. Curtains that once covered door are torn in center, leaving them in tatters. Nasir flinches when he sees the blood stain leading up to where he rests. 

"Medicus wasn't sure if blood would stop," Duro sighs heavily, "It took five men to remove him from room. Even Crixus had to come to aid."

"What prompted this? It was simple enough injury, was it not?" Nasir asks, the need to go find Agron and soothe pain first thought to mind. 

"You-" Duro closes eyes, tugging on his hair with one hand, "You kept talking the whole time to him. But-" 

The German pauses, seeming to choke on next words. Nasir shifts, reaching out hand to cover Duro's. He squeezes gently, reassuring the Syrian he's okay. 

"You lost sense from confusion." Duro murmurs. "You kept calling him dominus. You kept asking for forgiveness."

Nasir's mouth dries at confession. He can only imagine what effect his words would have upon Agron, such passionate man. How can he blame Agron for this when fault solely lies upon his shoulders? Had he not overreacted about Aodhan, had he held more self control, had he kept tongue to teeth and refrained from showing jealousy. 

"Where is he?" 

Duro's uneasy glance has Nasir sitting up, shoving the other man's hands away. He is not child to be coddled to breast.

"Duro, where is he?"

"He is kept in room in basement, locked away to prevent harm to others," Duro says quickly, frantically trying to keep Nasir within confines of bed. 

"What?" Nasir's shout rings loud and echoing in small room. 

"He was crazed and wouldn't listen to reason! We feared for safety of others and self."

"So you lock him in cell as if slave?" 

Duro's hands plant on Nasir's shoulders, keeping him sitting in bed. His eyes are wild as he aims to follow orders and keep Nasir to bed rest. Agron's and Nasir's love is force to be reckoned with, irrational and biting but enough to rival any god's power. Duro can only stand by in awe as Nasir rips head wrapping off. 

"Spartacus commanded me to stay beside you," Duro pleas, "You are not well enough to stand."

"How am I to lay in our bed knowing Agron is locked away as if monster?" Nasir snarls, keeping blankets around him as he attempts to stand. Head swimming, he stumbles and braces hand on Duro's shoulder. 

"Calm yourself, Nasir." 

Voice in doorway has both men turning to see Spartacus. He is still in full armor, and appears undamaged from Agron's apparently eager attempt at to cause harm to all who stood in way. His cool command has Nasir pausing in his attempt. 

"Spartacus-" Nasir begins, turning in circle to face rebel leader, ready to make plea. 

"I will take you to him, considering injury is not as grave as first believed, but first, matters need to be decided upon." Spartacus pulls curtain closed behind him. 

Nasir takes cup of wine from Duro's hand, unconcerned about look thrown his way as he drains it. If Spartacus wishes to discuss event, it can not mean good news for neither Agron or Nasir. 

"Explain to me," the rebel leader begins, crossing arms over chest, "what madness has taken both you and Agron?"

"I-" Nasir gulps, hating the disappoint in Spartacus' eyes, "I do not know what you speak of. Injury was accident. Agron took anger too far. You know he becomes irrational and taken with passion at times."

"That is all? Green eyed stare does not turn upon Celtic boy that aims to win Agron's favor?"

“Aodhan should be removed from fucking camp!” Duro hisses, stepping closer to Nasir, “He causes mess when he is suppose to learn sword to be of fucking use.”

“Duro!” Nasir hisses, elbowing him hard in the side, “Hold tongue!”

Nasir can feel his face burning with blush, dropping eyes to floor. He knows he's been acting like child, but how could he not be when prompted to do so? Aodhan gets under his skin, causes frustration unlike anyone else Nasir has known in rebellion. 

“Apologies.”

"Regardless, we are at war, Nasir. Rome breathes upon our neck and I will not have two of my best gladiators fighting because of bruised feelings. Agron will not listen to reason. As his better half, I turn to you to soothe this matter."

Spartacus moves towards Nasir, reaching out to grasp neck in brotherly manner. The smaller man can't bring himself to raise eyes, knowing the disappointment will be written in Spartacus'. Pulling him close, the gladiator lowers his voice to whisper in Nasir's ear. 

"You both have injuries that were not sustained by sword or spear. Agron is not man to see things that do not directly stand in path. Take him to your bed and see such distrust and pain put behind you. Boy is but troublesome youth that has been set to task away from you both.”

“Yes, Spartacus.” Nasir nods quickly, biting his lip in shame of actions. 

“I can not run this rebellion without you." 

Spartacus' words bring warmth to Nasir's chest, pulling small smile upon lips. He will do anything for this man, regardless of what he asks. Nasir nods quickly, head still twinging with pain. Spartacus grins, patting Nasir's cheek. He does not want to cause such strain on Spartacus, man who freed him from harsh bonds of slavery, who allowed Agron and Nasir to have first meeting upon villa's steps. 

"Come, I will take you to him." Spartacus turns before looking over shoulder. "Duro, retire to your room. You have served your purpose well and will be rewarded for it."

Duro pats his chest with fist, nodding tightly. He gives Nasir a tender look, tugging a strand of his hair affectionately. Nasir pats his arm, before pulling blanket covering around himself, following Spartacus out of the room. With one German mollified, Nasir turns attentions to bigger task of soothing Agron.

His bare feet lightly pad across villa's floor as he moves towards the basement, mind desperately racing with thoughts of beloved. He is unsure of the state Agron will be in, both body and mind. He knows that the rebel leader wouldn't let harm intentionally come to Agron, not by rebel's hands, but Crixus would not have problem soothing Agron with fists. 

Spartacus lends hand when Nasir stumbles, leading him down into dark hallway after dark hallway until they reach narrow steps. Path leads them through dark alcove before coming to stand in front of rows of doors. Spartacus pauses moment to light candle, coming to stop before large wooden door. 

"I will make my leave after I open the door," Spartacus murmurs, producing key from cloak and opening door with a loud click. 

Stepping inside doorway, Nasir's chest is filled with sudden, furious pain at sight before him. Agron is sitting in corner, knees drawn to chest with elbows resting on them, staring at ground. Someone has been kind enough to provide him subligaria, though it is dirty. Nasir can feel tears crowding eyes upon noticing the blood, his blood, is now dried upon Agron's palms, though it is clear the gladiator tried to pick it off. 

"Agron?" Nasir whispers, pulling makeshift blanket cloak around himself. 

The man glances up, brilliant green eyes nearly unrecognizable as they appear swollen from tears. A sizeable bruise has formed on his cheek, though that appears to be worst of damage. He seems uncertain if sight before him is real. 

Nasir freezes only for moment before rushing forward and dropping to knees between Agron's legs. He grasps the gladiator's face in tender hands, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. Agron allows it, dropping his own kisses on Nasir's jaw when he can reach. 

"Apologies. Apologies. Apologies," Agron chants, gripping Nasir's arms and pulling him back slightly, "I am a fool. A fool to be punished for such thoughtless actions."

"Hush," Nasir soothes, resting forehead to Agron's, "I am one to offer apologies. I caused such offense. I was jealous. I was not worthy of your attentions. I-"

Agron cuts him off with a kiss, pressing his lips firmly over Nasir's. They are only simple presses, Agron curling his fingers along Nasir's sharp jaw, holding his head in place as he teasingly licks but does not push in the other's mouth. Nasir is sure he could stay forever like this, regardless of the cold basement or that his knees grow tired from kneeling on hard stones. 

"Are you badly injured?" Agron asks, pulling away to stroke lovingly at Nasir's face. 

"Is but scratch," Nasir murmurs back, pressing as close to Agron as possible, smoothing his thumb under Agron's swollen eyes, "I am fine. It was accident."

"Yet way you callled for your dominus was not." Agron's eyes drop, fingers moving to trace where Nasir's slave collar would have lain. 

"I was lost in thought when mind should have been on you," Nasir confesses, resting hands on Agron's chest, "It is difficult sometimes to separte past life with life of freedom. It is not that I do not desire you, but fact that I am new to what desire is."

"Do you know what you desire?" Agron's searching eyes trace the Syrian's face, afraid of answer. 

"I desire you, in all things."

"There is no one," Agron begins, lifting Nasir's jaw up to look him in the eyes, "that I desire above you. No one."

Agron reaches inside of blanket to caress Nasir's back, making noise of surprise to find the Syrian still completely bare under coverings. Nasir whimpers at heated touch, falling forward to rest head against Agron's neck, scratching at his sides. Agron knows he would willingly lay down his life for this man, let the Romans decend upon him if only to keep Nasir safe and away from danger. Agron wonders how he could be so blind then to not see what other's gaze had done to him, what festering wound had Aodhan ripped open?

"You are covered in blood and I fear I can no longer stay upon knees on hard floor," Nasir pulls away to pick up candle off floor. Agron watches silently as the man stands, pulling blanket shut with bashful gaze. 

"Come, _hayati_ , I would have us return to our bed."

"Has Spartacus allowed such command?" Agron asks softly, making no comment yet on Nasir's use of Syrian tongue. 

"I doubt the Bringer of Rain could stand in my way when intent is to heal wounds with rest and flesh." Nasir's grin is cheeky, making him appear younger. Agron has not seen such look in days and aches to have it remain. 

Standing slowly, he wraps sure arm around Nasir, trying not to notice dried blood in his hair. His stomach still twists from actions, knowing he is guilty of many a thing. He will apologize in morning, make ammends and play whipped boy until he is forgiven. For now, sights are set upon pleasing his little Syrian, and smoothing over wounds to healing state. 

They make their way through the villa silently, late hour having seen most rebels already to slumber. Nasir holds the candle in unwavering hand, pausing every few steps to leave a kiss somewhere on Agron, a few to his face, a few to his chest, one exceptionally wet one low on his stomach. Agron returns the caresses, tracing shoulders and chin, 

Finally they enter their room, Nasir placing candle on small stand by bed, leaving it close enough to warm small bowl of oil. When he turns, Agron has paused in front of blood stain, staring at it with wide and unblinking eyes. 

"We will wash stones in morning," Nasir murmurs, stepping up onto bed. He kicks a few pillows up towards the head of it, eyes not leaving the gladiator. 

Blinking, Agron turns to Nasir with a small, if not humbled smile. He knows he is lucky to even remain in the Syrian's presence after such spectacle he caused earlier. Yet, as Nasir drops blanket and once again reveals naked flesh, Agron forgets for moment what has transpired between them earlier. 

"Come," Nasir sits upon bed, pulling bowl of water and rag towards him. 

Agron sheds subligaria, letting fabric pool on floor. He feels bare, more than just lack of cloth, raw in only the way Nasir can make him feel. As if there are parts inside of him that only Nasir can see. Agron's gaze stays on Nasir's soft face as he folds his long legs, sitting before Nasir, knees brushing.

With tender, thin fingers, Nasir takes one of Agron's hands into his own, rubbing cloth along his knuckles. The dried blood comes away with a smear of red, but the younger man doesn't flinch. After so long in rebellion, sight of blood does nothing to him. He simply continues on, caressing evidence of violence off of Agron's hands.

The gladiator feels emotion settling thick and choking in the back of his throat, need to hold Nasir close and protect him forcing his hands to begin to tremble. Nasir notices, looking up through his eyelashes at the other, concern furrowing his brow. 

"Agron-"

Question is cut short as Agron leans forward, brushing piece of hair behind the Syrian's ear. Nasir raises his head a little, biting bottom lip as their gazes meet, unwavering. He feels the heat from it, the scalding gaze that is Agron's green eyes, but this feeling inside his chest is something he's never felt before. Agron traces a fingertip along his cheekbone, so close he can feel the other's breath on his face, smell the metallic hint of blood. Agron's trembling hands tip his chin up a little before kissing Nasir with gentleness Agron wasn't aware he possessed. 

Moment stretches as Nasir makes a soft whimper, shifting up to run his hands through Agron's hair, twisting the soft ones at nape of neck. Blindly, the other man pushes bowl of water onto floor, pressing weight on to Nasir slightly, aiming to push him back onto pillows.

The Syrian pulls away, panting harshly as kisses intensified to catch breath. He doesn't move far from Agron, only unfolds legs to stretch before him, laying back against pillows. Hiss of pain pauses moment though as Nasir reaches towards back of head. 

"Your wound," Agron mumbles, helping Nasir to sit up again, "does it still bleed?"

"No," Nasir shakes head slightly, though wincing with movement, "is only tender to touch. I will seek pleasure on top of you."

Agron lets Nasir press on his shoulders, allowing the other man to guide him back onto the bed. Nasir moves slowly on top of him, spreading thighs around Agron's waist, letting smile begin to grow in anticipation. Pulsing cocks rub together, Nasir hissing as precome slicks his way enough to thrust for tiny relief of friction. He knows this. He knows Agron's body. Mess of the day can certainly be forgotten and erased by loving embrace. Raising up on his elbows, Agron stares at the other with unabashed desire. 

"How could anyone ever think they are in competition with you?" Agron muses, kissing Nasir's hip, tracing line to groin with tongue, "You stand above Adonis himself."

"Pretty words from someone who has yet to properly ready me for your cock," Nasir teases, drizzling oil from bowl onto Agron's stomach with giggle.

Sitting up, Agron lets the warm liquid run down his pelvis, catching some of his fingers. He eases them teasingly along Nasir's balls, rubbing at his perineum with strong caresses. A loud moan slips from Nasir, who throws his head back, long black hair spreading across his shoulder blades. 

Agron wants to take, to hold Nasir up and fuck him until he cries and scratches and bites. He wants to rush this, wants to reinforce his ever lasting devotion to this little Syrian prince. Yet, Agron can't. Not tonight. Not with the way Nasir's eyes are sparking behind half lids, breath gasping sharply with every caress. This is not the time for fucking. This is something else, something more. 

“You spoke to me in Syrian earlier,” Agron mentions, tracking a drop of sweat as it makes it's way down Nasir's chest.

“Did I?”

“Yes,” Agron leans up and tastes it with his tongue, “Say it again. I like the sound of it upon your lips.”

“ _Hayati_ ,” Nasir smiles a little, “I remember from when I was little, my father use to call my mother such.”

“What does it mean?” Nasir ducks his head at the question, blush spreading across his cheeks. 

“My life.”

Sliding a finger into him, Agron hushes Nasir's tiny, needy mews with his tongue inside mouth. His hair has come undone from braid, falling around his face, against Agron's, everywhere like ebony storm. Nibbling on Nasir's bottom lip, Agron sets easy rhythm with middle finger, tapping against Nasir's prostate every few strokes. He can feel the smaller man leaking against his stomach, and knows he is running out of time. 

Adding another finger, Agron grasps Nasir's wrist in steady hand. The Syrian allows himself to be manhandled, dragging palm along Agron's oil slick stomach before wrapping around his shaft. Steady pace of his hand has Agron's own speeding up. Three fingers is just enough for easing of passage. Agron wants to spend more time, working fourth finger and maybe tip of thumb inside the Syrian's tight heat, but not tonight.

" _Schatz_ ," Panting against the other's mouth, Agron licks Nasir's tongue, getting his permission and plea in one word. 

"Please!"

Removing fingers, Agron moves sure and steady hands to Nasir's hips, lifting him off bed. Nasir knows to hold still, spreading legs as wide as he can in such position. Agron should kiss Nasir, distract him from pain about to be inflicted, but he wishes only to see Nasir's wide eyed stare when cock finally breeches him. He is not disappointed. 

Nasir's mouth falls open, pants sounding louder and faster as Agron lowers him, inch after inch breaching his tight body. Nails bite into Agron's shoulders as Nasir squirms, whimpering and hiding his face in the other's neck. Finally, Nasir is once again sitting in Agron's lap, ass against thighs. 

Sure hands soothe along Nasir's trembling spine, easing tension out of muscles. It is not long before the younger man begins to move with intent, wrapping legs tightly around Agron's waist. The gladiator knows he's going to be the one doing all the work. The very few times they have taken it slow (usually in relief that the other is alive after battle or when both of them are too drunk to coordinate quick motion), Nasir melts as if made of clay under Agron's steady hands. 

Grasping his waist once more, Agron begins to move the other up and down, fucking Nasir onto his cock as if younger man is boneless. Nasir rewards such efforts with little moans and cries into Agron's ear, nails dragging across his skin in tantalizing threats of broken flesh. He sucks on Agron's ear lobe, pulling back to press his warm and open mouth to the gladiator’s, tongue tracing each one of Agron's teeth. 

Agron is lost in sensation, unsure how Nasir manages to stay like vice inside. After so many months of seeking pleasure within his body, Agron still finds it amazing that he must be stretched first. As for his own attentions, he seeks to kiss bruise every inch of Nasir's neck and chest. Biting along his collarbones, Agron sucks dark, violet marks against the golden tan skin, grinning when each one produces a curse from Nasir's mouth. 

Arms bulging under quickening movement, Agron feels sweat pooling down his chest, easing the way for Nasir's cock to drag along his abs. The Syrian reaches for it with desperate fingers, but Agron swats away the effort, gripping in sure, tight strokes. 

Tossing his head back again, Nasir braces hands on Agron's shoulders and rolls hips, changing angle slightly enough to have prostate be kisses by tip of Agron's cock. He gives loud, wavering moan, chasing the pleasure with more erratic movements of body, offsetting Agron's rhythm slightly. Change in angle has Agron gripping Nasir's ass instead, pulling it apart to accommodate more of his cock, and roughly lifting and lowering him. 

Pressing his forehead against Agron's, Nasir's eyes flutter open to gaze into the other's. There is suffocating passion and lust within his green-brown eyes, but Agron also sees the love, the soft, tender emotion that has Nasir tracing shapes into his skin long after passion has cooled. 

"I am close," Nasir gasps, cock leaking profusely all over Agron's fist. 

"Find release, little man, and I will surely follow."

Nasir opens mouth to chastise Agron for nickname when sudden burst of pleasure rockets through him as Agron drops him roughly on his cock. With prostate being pressed so tightly against and Agron's fist moving rapidly, Nasir can do nothing but reach highest pleasure with shout turned whine of Agron's name.

The gladiator does not stop his movements though, becoming rougher with desire to reach own climax. He is sure he is leaving bruises on the other man's hips as he slams him down upon Agron's cock, body fluttering around the leaking flesh. He is only able to complete a handful more of thrusts though before his own release is upon him, holding Nasir tightly down into his lap. 

They stay like that for some time, caressing flesh with the barest of fingertips, sharing soft kisses, and Agron's murmurs of sweet nothings and German into Nasir's ear. The Syrian is nearly asleep when Agron moves him. 

"You will regret allowing me to sleep between your thighs in the morning."

Murmuring, Agron lifts Nasir gently off of him, laying the other man down upon his side. Nasir wants to reply, wants to disagree and tell Agron how desperately he needs the other man near him always, but stress of day and taxing act of passion have taken all his strength. It is no matter anyways, as Agron blows out candle and comes to curl body along Nasir's back, kissing back of skull. 

\- - -

 

Days pass without incident. Agron sulks around the first day, trying to appear small and pitiful to win back favor, allowing Duro to boss him around for whole afternoon in exchange for forgiveness. He also follows Nasir as if pup, refusing to let the Syrian out of his sight for more than few hours. Spartacus soothes the giant gladiator with sure pat on the arm, twinkling eyes giving away more than expression. Crixus avoids him, much to Agron's surprise, but Nasir is secretly convinced it's Naevia's doing. All seems to settle in camp, rebellion carrying on in plot to burn Rome to the ground. 

Nasir doesn't set eyes upon Aodhan til nearly week after celebration party. He suspects it's Spartacus' doing, seeing as how he spots the boy clear on the other side of the villa than normal, helping to clean blood and dirt off recovered armor. It's not a favorable job, usually reserved to the youngest of boys, not yet able to grow beard or wield sword. 

Nasir has to hide pleased smirk behind hand at sight of Aodhan's blond head bent over a shield covered with the insides of a Roman. 

"You appear exceptionally pleased with yourself," Mira suddenly appears at elbow, holding bow in hand. 

"I do not appear as such," Nasir smothers look by wiping at mouth, "I was sent to fetch extra swords for recruits. Spartacus will not let me aid in training until head wound has fully healed"

"And sight of lowered youth does not lift spirits?" Her knowing gaze has Nasir dropping his.

"It gladdens me to see him no longer on purpose of gaining Agron's heart," he corrects.

"I do not think he aimed to replace you in such manner, but perhaps through cock in ass?" Mira urges to make point known, and Nasir does not miss such. 

"Speak if you bear knowledge on subject."

"Spartacus and I overheard conversation between Aodhan and other Celts. He aimed to secure status in rebellion by taking Agron to his bed."

Nasir's mind flashes to Chadara, beautiful and living, aiming to gain same at beginning of rebellion. She too was jealous of Nasir's position beside Agron. Would this youth also fall to Mira's arrows? 

"His end goal was never allowed to full fruition. Agron and I have not parted ways."

"As all of the rebellion has heard as such," Mira teases, grin spreading across her face, "Agron making his devotion to you know - nightly, with sun rise, and sometimes in mid-afternoon in secluded hallways."

Nasir gives way to laughter, shoving companionably on Mira's shoulder. He knows the gladiator and himself may have been too loud on numerous occasions, and villa does echo. Yet, he can not deny he approves of the sudden surge in their intimate times together. 

"Hold tongue. Agron simply grows bored with lack of battle recently. He burns with too much energy," Nasir explains, blush spreading along his cheeks. 

"Oh, of course," Mira nods, lip curling, "I do not doubt all is to blame on man East of the Rhine. You are simply unable to deny his requests?"

Nasir thinks back to morning. Agron had still lain slumbering in barely risen sun's light when the Syrian had woken to find his own need pressed hard and hot against his stomach. Nasir could not wait, and would not see completion alone. He had taken Agron's cock in mouth, aiming to wake and coax other into pleasure. 

"I am to purpose." Nasir steps around the woman, her laughter carrying in small space. 

He doesn't particularly want to talk to Aodhan, knowing the boy will not be pleased with his company, but task is set to him to provide for able men. Besides, Nasir thinks, does competition for Agron's attention even exist? Did it ever? Clearly, Nasir won battle numerous times. 

"I am in need of swords for training men," Nasir is unsure of how to greet the Celtic boy, and simply aims for end goal instead. 

"Are you not able to see? I am set with task. Take some from supply." Aodhan does not lift his head, though snarl of lip shows he knows who stands before him. 

"I ask for sharpened swords. Since you are cleaning retained armor, perhaps you would have better fucking knowledge of what can be used and what can't." Nasir tries to remain calm in face of annoyance, unwilling to start argument with rash youth. 

"He will tire of you, you know?" Aodhan continues to drag stained cloth across bloody chest plate. 

"What?" Nasir bristles under boy's words. 

"Agron will tire of you, one day. You will grow old and uglier," Aodhan lifts his blond head, blue eyes glaring at Nasir, "Time will wrinkle your face, sag your body, and soon soften your cock to useless meat between chilled thighs. He will replace you with someone younger and more beautiful and you will be left alone to rot."

Nasir's skin grows hot, hairs prickling along neck and arms. He knows it is childish taunts spewed by youth to try and get reaction. After all, he has no real power over Nasir, and would be punished greatly for causing him physical harm as the Syrian stands unarmed. Yet, the gall of such words strikes Nasir hard in chest. 

"You forget simple knowledge," Nasir crouches before the boy, bracing elbows on knees, "Every moment we are in rebellion against Rome, we fight against fate and the gods for our lives. Agron may not survive next battle. He could fall and your intentions would be lost. Time is not a matter when fighting for life."

Nasir has to swallow to keep dark thoughts from over crowding mind. The loss of Agron would be devastating to him, and Nasir is not sure if he could continue on his days without the German's shining eyes and wicked mouth. Heart would surely break and shrivel within chest. 

"You also forget," Nasir continues, "as I age, so does Agron, and do you. If I am nothing but dim reflection of former self, you will be as well, as not many years separate us."

"You were means to an end," Aodhan hisses, "Body slave turned gladiator's lap pet! What worth do you have besides warming his bed and fetching weapons for Spartacus?"

Nasir licks lips slowly, idea coming to mind. 

"If you desire Agron so greatly, we should have contest, but one fitting of such gladiator."

Recognition ghosts Aodhan's face and he pales slightly. 

"You would have us take up swords against each other?"

"I purpose contest." Nasir grins, standing up to continue, "If you come out as victor, I will remove myself from Agron's side and bless your union. If I win, you will turn sights from Agron and set purpose to something useful within rebellion, whether it be sword or bread making." 

"How am to know this is not simple plot to have Mira or Naevia stab me in back while I fight you?" Aodhan also stands, shielding sun from eyes as he stares at the other man. He has never had privilege to see him fight yet, but someone of that small of stature and that soft of face can not be that fierce with sword, can he?

"We shall have Spartacus judge. Surely there is no one more just and wise than Rebel King himself," Nasir supplies, mouth twisting into vicious smirk, "and Agron can watch, our honored guest, so in case you win, he will know about your form."

"You have armor. I will be ill equipped." Aodhan looks nervous, crossing arms. 

"Take afternoon to look for fitting armor and sword. We meet on sands at sundown." 

Nasir turns away from the boy, aiming to make for villa. Mira eyes him as he passes, biting on thumb nail, and shaking her head. He knows idea of contest to secure Agron's affection is pointless. Agron is no longer slave; he is not a prize to be taken. Still, Nasir would see this petty argument put to final rest. 

\- - - 

 

"You're what?" Caiside drops basket of linen, turning to face the other male. 

"I am to compete with Nasir using sword and shield," Aodhan shrugs, shifting through collected arm guards. 

"Do you think that wise?" Caiside runs a hand through his red hair, tugging on the strands. Though bound by loyalty to homeland, he is unsure if Aodhan and himself hold any bond at all when it comes to sense. 

"He is small and weak. I can best him," Aodhan replies confidently, shrugging shoulders, "What of it?"

"Small yes, but weak? Spartacus himself trained Nasir. He is Agron's," Caiside flounders over what to label it, knowing he is more important to the German than simple bedmate, "Do you really think he is without proper training?"

"He stands upon box shouting orders, but he is not practiced in it," Aodhan tightens straps of leather across his chest, eying the other boy. 

"You know that to be true?" Caiside can not help being skeptical. 

"You will regret lack of confidence when I stand victor." 

Aodhan wacks sword through air, laughing as if child. Such task is simple enough, he is not even sure why Nasir would put him up to it. He could best the other easily. The Syrian is simply boy playing games.

"You do not listen to sense," Caiside shakes head, "and you pay for it. Whether it is by Nasir's sword or Roman's." 

\- - - 

When Agron returns from raid of nearby villa, he finds brother and beloved standing in shared room conversing in hushed tones. Duro is finishing tightening shoulder guard across Nasir's back, fitting armor to his form. Nasir appears calm and collected, as always, running stone along swords edge. 

"What is the meaning of this?" Agron asks, moving to table by door and pouring cup of wine. 

"I am to compete with Aodhan upon courtyard soon." Nasir explains, not turning to meet the other's gaze. Duro does though, eyes meeting Agron's with a roll. 

"To what purpose?" Draining the cup, Agron strides to stand before the pair, reaching for rag and water. He begins to remove blood from chin and neck, noticing Nasir's dark eyes are not lowered but raised to his in defiance. 

"Surely, such a small matter, is no concern of yours. Rest and eat after such successful raid. I will return to our bed shortly for celebrate victory." Nasir smiles broadly, sheathing sword on hip. 

"He means to fight Aodhan for you," Duro spits out, dodging Nasir's elbow easily. 

"Fight for me?" Agron's eyebrows raise on forehead, "As if I am fucking Roman wife? What else must I do to prove loyalty to you, Nasir? Would you have me connect rope from my neck to yours?"

Nasir eases himself forward, hand landing closely to Agron's heart through the leather straps of his armor. He does not mean to upset the German, had foolish little brother's tongue kept still. 

"I do not doubt nor do I question your affections are pure. Did Spartacus not tell us that each man has his worth? I aim only to show Aodhan that," Nasir's eyes raise to the others, showing pure devotion, "I would set Aodhan onto such path, away from thinking only duty in life is to warm bed of men in power."

"A thing he does not yet grasp?" Agron asks, tucking stray hair behind Nasir's ear. 

"A thing I would have him learn," Nasir continues, "and I remember."

Agron does not think he will ever tire of Nasir's brilliance nor his unwavering strength. He had wondered over the past few days if all pain and wounds were soothed in the Syrian, and what else was required of Agron to make sure such never returned. Yet, here Nasir stands before him, more confident and strong than ever before. 

"Such a feat I can not miss," Agron grins, kissing Nasir's forehead before clapping Duro roughly on the shoulder, "Come. I would watch sport."

They make their way out to villa's courtyard, Agron's fingers brushing Nasir's the whole way. Duro looks worried as they reach destination and it appears others in rebellion have heard of contest. They pack around the training field, holding amphoras and cups of wine, looking around excitedly. Nasir steps away from the German brothers with slight nod, unwilling to show weakness of emotion in light of so many eyes upon them. He does tug on the red strip of fabric around his wrist, eyes meeting Agron's for barest of moments to reconfirm he is doing this for Agron but also for personal honor. 

"You do not fear for him?" Duro asks, following Agron to sit upon villa's steps. 

"Fear for him? Why should I? Nasir is capable warrior. He threatened Spartacus' life on very first night of freedom," Agron takes offered cup of wine from Mira, giving his gratitude, "I know he is still a wild little dog. If I fear, I fear for Aodhan knowing Nasir's wrath."

Duro eyes his brother, noting the proud look in Agron's eye, the easy way he lounges back onto steps. Such confidence is surprising in Agron, man who doubts even the gods existence. Then again, Duro reasons, Nasir must have caused bigger impact than first thought when he claimed Agron's heart. 

Spartacus comes to stand behind the brothers, nodding slightly in greeting. Aodhan has moved to stand before Nasir, and though Nasir gives slight bow of greeting, the youth turns head into crowd and laughs with someone there. Duro spares one last glance at his brother's face before keeping eyes trained on the two men. This fight will be worth watching. With raise of Spartacus' arm, the match begins. 

Nasir stays low to ground, swiping out with sword to meet Aodhan's too rash thrust. The younger man is clearly fueled by anger and pride and swings sword widely and with little thought to block. Nasir gets a few quick, small cuts into the boy's thigh, drawing blood with feral hiss. 

He does not cause pain to kill though. No, Nasir was trained by gladiators, trained how to play with his food before slaughtering. He will not best the boy easily and further hurt pride. Nasir seeks to make Aodhan believe he possesses some skill before striking. 

They circle each other, though Nasir feels he is more on the defense than attack. Every time he aims to press forward, Aodhan swings again. It is as if shield is useless in hand. The clanging of swords mixes with the shouts and laughter of the crowd, filling the large courtyard with anthem of the games.

Aodhan gives way to shoving Nasir back, making bold thrusts that the Syrian blocks easily. He is nearly upon ring of onlookers though when Aodhan finally gets in first hit. Swipe of sword grazes Nasir's cheek, splitting skin in clean line. Blood pools across his jaw, but Nasir does not raise hand to check it, keeping eyes on the boy at all times. 

The youth turns, eying crowd and raising sword as if victory is upon him. Nasir proceeds to make his attack. Keeping shield close to body, he shoves hilt of sword into Aodhan's back, knocking the boy off balance. He barely has time to turn before Nasir is once again bringing hilt down upon his chest. Aodhan staggers under the blow, not yet falling. 

He makes futile attempt at last stab at Nasir, but fist to face has Aodhan fully dropping to his knees, blood splattering all over ground. With tip of sword pressed to now vulnerable neck, Nasir stands victor over the youth. 

"Are you going to kill me?" Aodhan spits, blood spewing up the sword. 

"No." Nasir shakes his head, "You are to gain purpose within rebellion. And keep sights away from those who do not wish for your attentions."

"I would not do the same for you!" Aodhan shouts, body shaking with anger as tears crowd his eyes. 

"And that is where I found my worth, in not being like men like you. Not being a Roman," Nasir shakes his head, feeling pity for the boy, but nothing else. 

He turns, dropping sword to dirt, and begins to make his way towards steps. Battle is over and won, yet Nasir can not seem to call it victory, only passing of knowledge from one lost boy to another. He lifts hand to wipe at cheek as both Agron and Duro move towards him, Agron's expression gleeful and proud. Nasir is nearly within arms reach when scream is heard from behind him. 

He only has moment to turn and spot Aodhan running for him, sword extended. Lifting arm to shield his face, Nasir's breath is painfully forced from lungs as Duro's elbow connects with chest, forcing the Syrian into Agron. Next moment is all a blur as sound of splitting skin fills closest space and blood splatters around them. 

When Nasir opens his eyes, all he can see is Aodhan's bloody face suspended at the end of Agron's sword, clutched in Duro's hand. The younger brother trembles as he releases it, the Celt falling back onto his knees. Blow is deadly, centered in middle of chest. He can only gurgle upon blood on lips before death greets him into stillness. 

"He-" Duro's wide brown eyes turn to his brother, than to Nasir, "He was going to kill you. I didn't-I didn't mean to-"

"Hush Duro, it's alright. Nasir was unarmed. You saved his life."

Agron reaches out with steady hand to grip side of Duro's neck, pulling the man away from the bleeding Celt on the ground. He is unsure of what all had just transpired, having only had eyes on Nasir when Duro grabbed his sword. Still, he aims to give comfort to both, wrapping Nasir close to his chest as he taps foreheads with Duro. 

Spartacus has made it to them by then, kneeling by Aodhan's body and lowering his eyelids. He looks grim, shaking his head as he takes around crowd, faces suspended in horror and shock. He can not seem to grasp how so many people can be flawed when it comes to freedom, and the freedom to not hurt those around you who also desire it. 

"Remove body and dispose of it," Spartacus barks orders to a few men standing nearby. 

"Bury him." 

A voice from the crowd speaks out, Caiside coming into view. He appears grim but unsurprised by Aodhan's end. 

"It was the way of his people."

Spartacus nods, motioning for the youth and surrounding rebels to take the boy. He pulls Agron's sword from Aodhan's chest first though, handing it back to the gladiator. 

"Retire from sight. Spend tomorrow for rest."

Agron nods solemnly, gently pushing Duro towards villa. Nasir lingers for only moment, staring as Aodhan's body is lifted from dirt and carried off into crowd. He feels sudden sadness overcome him, at loss of boy but also loss of innocence. Things had seemed simpler when he was only made to serve one master's wishes. Now, with freedom, choices bombard him constantly. He is unsure if he made the right one in this. 

"You have over come such state," Spartacus murmurs to Nasir, placing comforting hand on shoulder, "You are not to blame for the actions or blindness of others. Aodhan was welcomed to freedom with open arms. We can only train men as far as they are willing to be molded. If he could not see his own worth, then that is no fault of yours."

Nasir smiles softly, understanding the comfort in which Spartacus offers. Though hard, undefeated leader, Nasir can not see Spartacus as anything in these moments than lost father regained. He returns his gentle pat, turning to join Agron in doorway. 

\- - - 

Later, away from prying eyes and within their room, Nasir pillows his head on Agron's chest and lets tears flow. Agron soothes the man with soft caresses of his hair and back, humming softly to him, not understanding what troubles him so much. 

"Do not think me weak for shedding tears. I think of others as well," Nasir sniffles, wiping at eyes with side of hand. 

"Tears not sign of weakness, but sign of strength in feeling something. Emotion makes you stronger. You are not responsible for the choices of others. You are only master of your path, Nasir," Agron kisses Nasir's forehead, "Chadara, Aodhan, and anyone else acts for selfish reasons and is struck down does not weigh on your shoulders."

"It is not that." Mumbling, Nasir pushes up on elbow to look into Agron's troubled, green eyes. "I could have stood in his place. I could have fought another for position of power. I did within dominus' villa. I treated you as such too. As if you were prize to boost me to heaven. Apologies."

Agron sighs deeply, brushing tangled curls from Nasir's face before holding it between calloused hands. 

"You are not the man you were before, Nasir. You are not a pretty, silent body slave that is here within my bed to warm it. Yes, I was eager to be within your space because you were of soft features. I thought with my cock," Nasir giggles a little and Agron's heart soars, "That is not what keeps me beside you. Your bravery. Your strength. Your selflessness. Your heart has bound me so tightly to you that I fear if you leave for the afterlife, I will race you there."

"You speak bold words. How am I to know you won't grow tired of me?" Nasir asks, tracing leather cords on other's chest. 

"I could not," Agron replies, fingers tangling in the other's hair, "You are it for me, my gift from troublesome gods."

"Mars favors you." Nasir looks up at Agron through his eyelashes. 

"Does he now? And do you? What if you grow to love another warrior? Someone easy on the eyes and smile?" Agron guides Nasir closer, breathing words against his lips. 

"I will stay by your side for eternity." 

He seals the promise with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and read and followed me on tumblr! I really enjoyed all the comments, especially reading them in all my boring college classes. 
> 
> Don't be shy, btw, and hit me up on tumblr. I will answer! 
> 
> I am so glad that I am in such an awesome fandom. Please, make sure to read everyone else's fics too. We have some awesome writers in the Nagron family. 
> 
> Again, thank you and until next time, keep goat farming!

**Author's Note:**

> add me on [ tumblr ](http://venomedveins.tumblr.com) if you're so inclined


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